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RURAL POEMS 


OR, 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


RURAL POEMS, 

ILLUSTBATIVE OF THE 

HUSBANDRY, SCENERY, AND MANNERS 

OP 

Jkotlanfc ; 

OB, 

BRITISH GEORGICS. 


BY 

JAMES GRAHAME, 

i i 
AUTHOR OF " THE SABBATH," AND OTHER POEMS. 


Divini gloria ruris. 


PRINTED FOR OGLE, DUNCAN, & CO. LONDON ! 

BELL & BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH; 

AND M. OGLE, GLASGOW, 

1821. 


M 


k* 






PREFACE. 


] n the following Poem, I have not attempted 
to exhibit a system of husbandry. I have aimed 
not so much to instruct as to amuse ; not to 
teach a science, but to recommend the study of 
it. As intimately connected with that study, 
and as a subject of infinite importance in itself, 
I have pointed my view more or less directly to 
the situation and manners of the peasantry. 1 1 
is my wish to draw the attention of landed pro- 
prietors to that most important class of the 
community, and to persuade them, that the 


^- 


VI PREFACE. 

welfare of the country depends in a great mea- 
sure on preserving the cultivators of the soil in 
that relative state of respectability, comfort, and 
consequence, which they have hitherto held, but 
which the fashionable system of agriculture has 
an evident tendency to destroy. In this view, 
though I am no friend to idleness. I am humblv 
of opinion that innocent recreations ought to be 
encouraged ; that festivals, holidays, customary 
sports, and every institution which adds an hour 
of importance, or of harmjess enjoyment, to 
the poor man's heart, ought to be religiously 
observed. 

Descriptions, therefore, of old customs, some 
of them unhappily on the wane, I conceived 
might be useful, as tending not only to preserve 
their remembrance, but even perhaps to retard 
the rapidity of their decline. But while I say 
that such was my aim, I am far from arrogating 


PREFACE, ^1 

to myself the merit of having succeeded in that 
aim. To draw a picture of rural life, so truly; 
and at the same time so pleasingly, as to render 
the original an object of higher interest than it 
was before, is no easy task. The merit to which 
I lay claim is that merely of fidelity. 

If the title which I have chosen should be 
deemed an assuming one, I beg leave to ob- 
serve, that the word Georgics, though the; title 
of the most beautiful and complete of Virgil's 
works, is as much the appropriate term for a 
poem on husbandry, as the word Tragedy is for 
a particular species of dramatig composition. 

In having chosen a theme that has been illus- 
trated by the genius of Virgil, I trust I shall be 
acquitted of temerity, when it is considered that 
the British isles differ in so many respects from 
the countries to which Virgil's Georgics alluded, 


Till PREFACE, 

—■in soil, climate, and productions, in men and 
manners, — that the art of agriculture , in refe- 
rence to the one, may well be considered as 
quite a different subject from what it is in re- 
ference to the other. 

That I have been preceded by Thomson, is a 
consideration of a more serious kind. He, no 
doubt, with a genius and felicity which none of 
his followers need ever hope to equal, has de- 
scribed many of the most striking appearances 
o i Nature, and many of the most poetical pro- 
cesses, so to speak, of husbandry. But though 
he has reaped, why may not others be permitted 
to glean ? 

On the topics of that faithful and amiable 
painter of rustic life, Bloomfield, I have rarely- 
encroached ; his allusions refer to a district of 
the island, and to appearances and customs, 


PREFACE, IX 

very different from those which I have had in 
my eye. My allusions relate chiefly to Scotland, 
to Scottish husbandry, scenery, and manners. 
At the same time, I will venture to say, that 
the modes of cultivation which I recommend 
are not, strictly speaking, local. That the 
scenery and manners are local, or rather na- 
tional, is true ; but the rules of agricultural im- 
provement which I have inculcated, whether by 
description or direct precept, are equally suit- 
able to both divisions of the island. It may 
here be remarked, that the crops, in many dis- 
tricts north of the Tweed, are at least equal to 
any that England can boast of; and that, in 
truth, Scotland has found a compensation for 
the inferiority of her soil and climate, in the 
skill and enterprise of her husbandmen, 

That I am not a practical farmer, is a circum- 
stance which must, no doubt, derogate from my 


X PREFACE. 

authority as a writer on agriculture, and may 
even perhaps draw on my present attempt the 
imputation of presumption. In my justification, 
I would observe, that though I have never 
practised the business, I have studied it, both 
by much actual observation, and some reading. 
From my infancy, I have in general passed 
near the half, sometimes a greater portion of 
the year, in the country. To the appearances 
of Nature, and the operations of Agriculture, 
my attention, though without any particular 
aim, was long directed ; and of late years I 
have been stimulated to diligence and accuracy 
of observation, partly with a view to my present 
undertaking, and partly by a halftformed inten- 
tion which I at different periods have harbour- 
ed, of devoting a portion of my time to the 
business of husbandry. 

On the abuse of Notes much has of late been 


PREFACE. XI 

said, and justly said, both by critics and readers; 
With respect to the notes, which compose the 
concluding part of this volume, I can safely say* 
that, in adding them, I have been induced by 
a firm conviction that they would form a useful 
supplement to the poetical part of the work. 
In a composition partly didactic, it is often im- 
possible to reconcile minuteness and precision 
with poetry. And even with regard to those 
topics, on which I have somewhat enlarged, 
explanation appeared not to be superfluous. 
My deficiency, too, of professional authority ', 
seemed to require a frequent reference to 
authors, who united practical to theoretical 
knowledge. When to these considerations is 
added this, — that allusions to manners and cus- 
toms are, of all others, those which most gene- 
rally require illustration, and that the manners 
and customs, which are the subjects either of 
allusion or of description in the following poem, 


XH PREFACE. 

are many of them peculiar to one only of the 
united kingdoms, I trust that, in the judgment 
of every candid reader, I shall be acquitted of 
having practised the unworthy device of in- 
creasing the bulk without adding to the value of 
my woik. 


BRITISH GEORGICH 


JANUARY, 


All Nature feels the renovating force 
Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye 
In ruin seen. The frost-concocted glefa 
Draws in abundant vegetable soul, 
A id gathers vigour for the coming year. 

Thoms©> 


ARGUMENT. 

Short sketch of the subject. — Shortness of the day — 
Address to Night — Morning of the first day of the 
year — Cessation of labour — Conviviality and joy 
of the day — Some labours cannot be delayed- — 
Feeding cattle and sheep — Examine fences — Shelter 
derived from fences — Improvement of climate from 
fences — Hedges preferable in this respect to walls 
— Illustration cf this — -Objection to hedges and belts 
answered — A heavier fall of snow—Moiming — 
Threshers — Storm of snore — Shepher*d out with his 
jloch in the night — Snoiv scene in clear weather — 
Driving manure and lime — Care of horses — Bed- 
ding— Slippering — He?i-roost — Foumart — A seren e 
morning and day — Effects of sun on sheltered spots 
— Ice scenes — Ronspiel between rival districts — 
Cottage fireside scene in the evening — Reading — 
This scene not fictitious in Scotland~Parish 
schools — Appeal on the advantages of public in- 
struction — Remonstrance with those who lately op- 
posed the principle of parish schools in England, 


BRITISH GEORGICS 


JANUARY. 


1 he labours of the plough, the various toils 
That, still returning with the changeful year, 
Demand the husbandman's and cottar's* care ; 
The joys and troubles of the peasant's life ; 
His days and nights of festive mirth, that serve, 
Though few, yet long foreseen, remembered long. 
To lighten every task ; his rural sports 
Afield, at home ; the fickle season's signs ; 
The varying face of nature, wood, and stream, 
And sky, and fruitful field, — these now I sing, 

* Cottager. 


4 BRITISH GEORGICS, 

The wintry sun shoots forth a feeble glimpse 
Then yields his short-lived empire to the night, 
Hai), Night i pavilioned 'neath a rayless cope^ 
I love thy solemn state/ profoundly dark ; 
Thy sable pall ; thy lurid throne of clouds., 
Viewless save by the lightnings flash ; thy crown 
That boasts no starry gem ; thy various voice, 
That to the heart, with eloquence divine, 
Now in soft whispers, now in thunder speaks, 
Not undelightful is thy reign to him 
Who wakeful gilds, with reveries bright, thy g!ooi% 
Or listens to the music of the storm, 
And meditates orf Him who sways its course : 
Thy solemn state I love, yet joyful greet 
The long-expected dawn's ambiguous light 
That faintly pencils out the horizon's verge* 

Long ere the lingering dawn of that blithe mora 
Which ushers in the year, the roosting cock^ 
Flapping his wings, repeats his larum shrill ; 


JANUARY, 

But on that morn no busy flail obeys 
His rousing call ; no sounds but sounds of joy 
Salute the year, — the first-foot's * entering ste^p, 
That sudden on the floor is welcome heard, 
Ere blushing maids have braided up their hair ; 
The laugh, the hearty kiss, the good new year 
Pronounced with honest warmth. In village, grange, 
And burrow town, the steaming flaggon, borne 
From house to house, elates the poor man's heart, 
And makes him feel that life has still its joys. 
The aged and the young, man, woman, child, 
Unite in social glee ; even stranger dogs, 
Meeting with bristling back, soon lay aside 
Their snarling, aspect, and in sportive chaee. 
Excursive scour, or wallow in the snow. 
With sober cheerfulness, the grandam eyes 
Her offspring round her, all in health and peace jj 
And, thankful that she's spared to see ttys day 

* The first visitant who enters a house on new-year's <W? 
is called \h?jirst-fooU 


6 V BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Return once more, breathes low a secret prayer,. 
That God would shed a blessing on their heads* 

Thus morning passes, till, far south, the sun 
Shines dimly through the drift, and warning gives, 
That all the day must not be idly spent. 
Some works brook not delay ; the stake, the stall , 
And fold, at this rough season, most demand 
Assiduous care ; the sheep-rack must be filled 
With liberal arms, and, from the turnip field, 
A plenteous load should spread the boulted snow ; 
While winterers, by hedge or bush that cowr, 
Expect their wonted sheaf. 

Throughout this month 
Much it imports your fences to survey; 
For oft the heifers, tempted by the view 
Of some green spot, where springs ooze out, and thaw 
The falling flakes as fast as they alight, 
Bound o'er the hedge ; or at neglected gaps 


JANUARY. - 7 

Burst scrambling through, and widen every breach, 
A stake put timely in, or whinny bush, 
Until the season come when living plants 
May fill the vacant space, much harm prevents. 

Some husbandmen deem fences only formed 
To guard their fields from trespass of their own, 
Or neighbour's herd or flock ; and lightly prize 
The benefits immense which shelter brings. 
Mark how, within the shelter of a hedge, 
The daisy, long ere winter quits the plain, 
Opens its yellow bosom to the sun. 

A hedge full grown, if with a hedge-row joined;, 
Or circling belt, the climate of your field 
Improves, transmutes from bleak and shivering cold 
To genial warmth : no graduated scale 
Is needed to demonstrate this plain truth, 
Obvious as true ; for there a vivid green 


t BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Tinges your early sward, there lingers long 
When winter winds have blanched the neighbourir 

Some fences tend but little to abate 
The biting cold ; — the wall, unless around 
A narrow field, or raised of towering height, 
But small degree of sheltering warmth affords. 
It is by artificial calm that fields 
Are warmed ; and walls but slightly check 
The sweeping blast. The liquid air is ruled 
By laws analogous to those which sway 
The watery element : — See how a stream 
Surmounts obstructing rocks, or crossing dams. 
Seeming as if resistance gave new force ; 
But, if obstructed b}' a fallen tree, 
Or dipping branch, smoothly at glides along 
In gentler course, and dimples as it flows ; 
So through the pervious check of spray and twig, 
The blast, impeded in its course, not turned, 
Slackens its boisterous speed, and sighs along the vale. 


JANUARY. 9 

Whoe'er delights in sheltered winter walks, 
Or garden well protected from the blight 
Of nipping winds, should cultivate the beech. 
Quickly it grows, and through the year retains 
Its foliage : withered though it be, yet warm, 
Its very rustle warms the wint'ry blast. 

List not to him, who says that shelter'd fields 
Suffer from lack of air ; that corn once lodged 
Is lost, if not exposed to every breeze. 
True wisdom oft consists but in a choice 
Of ills ; and, if sometimes luxuriant crops 
Are injured by an atmosphere confined, 
Far oftener are they in their early stage 
Protected thus from pelting rains, which else 
I ay bare the roots, and save, I ween, all risque 
Of growth luxuriant, or of prostrate stalks. 

Now broadened, blinding flakes, by day, by night. 
In thickening showers descend, and oft, ere morn, 


10 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

The crow of chanticleer, obtusely heard, 
Announces that a deeper fall has thatched 
His chinky roof; the doors are half blocked up ; 
From house to barn the path deep buried lies ; 
And, nigh waist-deep sinking, the threshers w T ade 
To ply their early task. Cheerful the sound 
Of double strokes, ceasing but till the sheaf 
Be turned, or new one loosed : but sorrowful 
The sound of single flail ; it tells that peace 
Is not within our gates. 

All out-door work 
Now stands ; the waggoner, with wisp-wound feet< 
And wheelspokes almost filled, his destined stage 
Scarcely can gain. O'er hill, and vale, and wood, 
Sweeps the snow-pinioned blast, and all things veils 
In white array, disguising to the view 
Objects well know r n, now faintly recognized. 
One colour clothes the mountain and the plain, 
Save where the feathery flakes melt as they fall 


JANUARY. 11 

Upon the deep blue stream, or scowling lake ; 

Or where some beetling rock o'erjutting hangs 

Above the vaulty precipice's cove. 

Formless, the pointed cairn now scarce o'ertops 

The level dreary waste ; and coppice woods, 

Diminished of their height, like bushes seem. 

With stooping heads, turned from the storm, the flocks^ 

Onward still urged by man and dog, escape 

The smothering drift, while, skulking at a side,, 

Is seen the fox, with close down-folded tail, 

Watching his time to seize a straggling prey ; 

Or from some lofty crag he ominous howls, 

And makes approaching night more dismal fall. 

But not with night's approach the shepherd's toils 
Are ended ; through the deep and dreary glooms, 
Without one guiding star, he struggling wades 
The rising wreath ; till, quite o'erspent, compelled 
To leave his flock to time and chance, he turns 
Homeward his weary and uncertain steps, 


12 BRITISH GEOKGICS-. 

Much doubting of his wa}^, foreboding much, 

In vain he tries to find his wonted marks, — 

The hill-side fountain, with its little plat 

Of verdant sward around ,• the well-known cairn ; 

The blasted branchless oak ; the ancient stone 

Where murdered martyrs fell, and where they lie: 

In vain he lists to hear the rushing stream, 

Whose winding course would lead him to his home. 

O'ercome at last, yielding to treacherous rest, 

He sits him down, and folds within his plaid, 

In fond embrace, the sharer of his toils, 

The partner of his children's infant sports. 

His children ! thought of them wakes new resolves 

To make one last despairing effort more. 

Meanwhile they, crouching round the blazing hearth* 

Oft ask their mother when he will return. 

She on her rocking infant looks the while, 

Or, starting, thinks she hears the lifted latch ; 

And oft the drift comes sweeping o'er the floor, 

While anxiousty she looks- into the storm, ] 


JANUARY* IS 

Returning soon to stir the dying brands, 

That with their blaze her sinking hopes revive : 

Alas, her hopes are transient as that blaze, 

And direful images her fancy crowd, — 

The dog returning masterless ; the search 

By friends and kinsmen wandering far o'er mos.s 

And moor; the sad success, — his body found 

Half buried in a wreath ; the opening door 

To let the bearers in ! . . . The door is opened : 

Shook from poor Yarrow's fur, a sleety mist 

Is scattered round, and in his master steps. 

What joy ! what silent tearful joy pervades 

The late despairing groupe ! Round him they cling ; 

One doffs his stiffened plaid, and one his shoes ; 

Kneeling, one chafes his hands and feet benumbed S 

The sleeping babe is roused to kiss its sire, 

Restored past hope ; and supper, long forgot, 

Crowns the glad board : » Nor is their evening pray a* 

This night omitted ; fervent, full of thanks, 


14 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

From glowing hearts in artless phrase it flows I 
Then, simply chaunted by the parent pair, 
And by the lisping choir, the song of praise, 
Beneath the heath-roofed cottage in the wild, 
Ascends more grateful to the heavenly throne, 
Than pealing diapason, and the loud 
Swelling acclaim of notes by art attuned. 

But clearer skies succeed ; the downy fall 
No longer dims the welkin, and, low poised, 
The sun gleams slanting o'er the beauteous waste 
Of snow, here smoothing o'er each bosky bourne, 
Or heaved into a mimic moveless wave, 
There drifted up against some cottage wall, 
In easy slope uniting with the roof. 
How dazzling white the illimitable glare ! 
With ruby-tinted beams twinkling, till ache? 
The wearied eye. that vainly seeks to find 
A resting-place, compelled at last to close, 


JANUARY. HI 

Soon as, by frequent hoof and wheel, the roads 
A beaten path afford, 'tis time to yoke 
The rested teem, and, from the neighbouring town. 
To drive the well-heaped loads of rich manure ; 
Or, from the smoke-enveloped kilns, bring home 
The fertilizing stone. Now compost mounds 
Ought from their snowy covering to be cleared, 
To feel the powerful influence of the frost. 

But chiefly, in this rigorous month, attend 
To keep the team in order for the field : 
Unyoke betimes, whatever be the task, 
And house them ere the disappearing sun 
Shoot, as he sinks, a feeble parting glimpse. 
Then see their nightly lair * be warm and clean. 
Of well-dried fern or straw ; this profits more 
Than half their food ; nor is it wasteful care : 
For thus, 'gainst spring's return, the strutting cock> 

* Repeatedly used by Dryden in this sense. 


fitf BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Proud of his height upon yon reeking pile, 
Tells, as he crows, of early thriving brairds ?; 

How pleasant when the smoking cribs are filled 
Closing the door, to turn, with listening ear, 
And hearken to the sound of busy mouths ; 
Then, with an upward gaze, to wander o'er 
The starry host, and think that He, who rolls 
Yon spheres innumerable, deigns to feed 
Both man and beast, and all the fowls of heaven 

O nightly miracle ! to me still new, 
Though long beheld : O soul-elating sight I 
Stupendous record, witnessing to man 
A ruling power, almighty and benign. 

Be not forgot, amid your evening care- 
To see that all be safe beneath the roof> 

* Grain c#op in its-early tftaggs 


JAKUAIt'ST. 

Where snugly^ with his dames, sits chanticleer. 
Each hole shut up, then every part explore, 
Lest, ambushed in a corner, couches sly 
The thirsty foumart, by his eyes betrayed, 
That, glaring from some darksome nook, outshine 
Your glimmering lamp : — with tiptoe step glide out 
Up from the fireside rouse your sleeping cur ; 
Haste then, not weaponless, and, followed close 
By man and boy y all eager for the sport, 
Rush in, and, if the fell destroyer 'scape 
Your hurried ill-aimed strokes, Luath, more cool. 
Will seize him fast, and lay him at your feet : 
A deed remembered long on winter nights, 
When scarce a fragment of the trophied scalp, 
Grinning, remains to grace your stable-door, 

Ruddy is now 'the dawning as in June, 
And clear and blue the vault of noon-tide Mky ; 
Nor is the slanting orb of day unfelt. 

From sunward rocks, the icicle's faint^drop, 


18 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

By lonely river-side, is heard at times 
To break the. silence deep ; for now the stream 
Is mute, or faintly gurgles far below 
Its frozen ceiling : silent stands the mill, 
The wheel immoveable, and shod with ice. 
The babbling rivulet, at each little slope, 
Flows scantily beneath a lucid veil, 
And seems a pearly current liquified ; 
While, at the shelvy side, in thousand shapes- 
Fantastical, the frostwork domes uprear 
Their tiny fabrics, gorgeously superb 
With ornaments beyond the reach of art : 
Here vestibules of state, and colonnades ; 
There Gothic castles, grottos, heathen fanes, 
Rise in review, and quickly disappear ; 
Or through some fairy palace fancy roves, 
And studs, with ruby lamps, the fretted roof; 
Or paints with every colour of the bow 
Spotless parterres, all freakt with snow-white flowers, 
Flowers that no archetype in nature own ; 


JANUARY. 19 

Or spreads the spiky crystals into fields 

Of bearded grain, rustling in autumn breeze. 

Upon the river's brink the schoolboy stands, 
And, hesitating, eyes the clear expanse 
Of solid water. First, a stone he throws,—* 
It o'er the elastic surface, ringing, bounds 
With frequent leap, then smoothly glides along ; 
Cautious he forward steps, starting dismay ed, 
To hear, as if a rent struck upward far, 
• And see beneath his foot the dialled ice. 
IJear not, poor elf; but venturing enjoy 
Thy harmless pastime : yielding ice is strong., 
And safer still as farther from the shore. 
Or, heedful of the fond parental fears, 
Wait patient till another starry night 
Has, in that frozen mirror-plate, beheld 
Another galaxy inverted shine. 
Tis then deep shoots the penetrating power. 


/2Q BRITISH GEOKGICS. 

Compacting hard, o'er brook and river wide 
A seamless pavement, luculent } T et strong. 

But chiefly is the power of frost displayed 
Upon the lake's crystalline broad expanse? 
Wherein the whole reflected hemisphere 
Majestically glows, and the full sweep, 
Prom pole to pole, of shooting star is seen : 
Or when the noon -day sun illumes the scene, 
And mountain hoar, tree, bush,, and margin reed,. 
Are imaged in the deep. At such a time, 
How beautiful, O Duddingston ! thy smooth 
And dazzling gleam, o'er which the skaiter skims 
From side to side, leaning with easy bend, 
And motion fleet, yet graceful : wheeling now 
In many a curve fantastic ; forward now, 
Without apparent impulse, shooting swift, 
And thridding, with unerring aim, the throng 
That all around enjoy the mazy sport: 
Dunedin'r nymphs the while the season brave r 


• January; 21 

Ami, every charm enhanced, — the blooming cheek, 

The eye beaming delight, the breathing lips 

Like rosebuds wreathed in mist,— the nameless grace 

Of beauty venturing on the slippery path, — - 

Heighten the joy, and make stern winter smile. 

Scared from her reedy citadel, the swan, 

Beneath whose breast, when summer gales blew soft, 

The water lily dipped its lovely flower, 

Spreads her broa4 pinions mounting to the sky, 

Then stretches o'er Craigrnillar's ruined towers, 

And seeks some lonely lake remote from man. 

Now rival parishes, and shrievedoros, keep, 
Qn upland lochs, the long-expected tryst * 
To play their yearly bonspiel d\ Aged men. 
Smit with the eagerness of youth^ are there, 
While love of conquest lights their beamless eyes,, 

* Appointment. 

i A match at the game of curling on the Lee. 


22 B1ITISH GEORGIC^ 

New-nerves their arms, and makes them young once? 
more= 

The sides when ranged, the distance meted out. 
And duly traced the tees *, some younger hand 
Begins, with throbbing heart, and far o'ershoots, 
Or sideward leaves, the mark : in vain he bends 
His waist, and winds his hand, as if it still 
Retained the power to guide the devious stone, 
Which, onward hurling, makes the circling groupe 
Quick start aside, to shun its reckless force. 
But more and still more skilful arms succeed. 
And near and nearer still around the tee* 
This side, now that, approaches ; till at last. 
Two seeming equidistant, straws or twigs 
Decide as umpires 'tween contending coits t- 

* The marks. 

fin some parts of Scotland, the stones with which eurteri 
pfay are called costing, or coifing stones.. 


JANUARY. 

Keen, keener still, as life itself were staked, 
Kindles the friendly strife : one points the line 
To him who, poising, aims and aims again ; 
Another runs and sweeps where nothing lies* 
Success alternately, from side to side, 
Changes ,* and quick the hours un-noted fly? 
Till light begins to fail, and deep below, 
The player, as he stoops to lift his coit, 
Sees, half incredulous, the rising moon. 
But now the final, the decisive spell, 
Begins ; near and more near the sounding stones^ 
Some winding in, some bearing straight along, 
Crowd justling all around the mark, while one, 
Just slightly touching, victory depends 
Upon the final aim : long swings the stone, 
Then with full force, careering furious on, 
Rattling it strikes aside both friend and foe, 
Maintains its course, and takes the victor's place, 
The social meal succeeds, and social glass ; 
in words the light renewed is fought again. 


24 BRITISH GEORGICSv 

While festive mirth forgets the winged hours. — 
Some quit betimes the scene, and find that home 
Is still the place where genuine pleasure dwells. 

Dear to the peasant's heart his fire-side blaze. 
And floor new swept to greet his glad return ! 
And dear the welcome of his child, and dog 
Fawning to share his favour, still bestowed 
Upon the climbing infant : sweet meanwhile, 
His only guest, the redbreast, wakened, trills 
A summer carol short, then meath his wing, 
In trust implicit, veils his little head. 
May be some ancient volume read aloud 
Fixes the listening groupe ; perhaps the deeds 
Of Wallace are the theme, — rude though the strain. 
And mingling false with true, relished by all 
Who Scotland love, — who liberty adore. 
Hope, fear, and joy, alternate paint each face, 
As fluctuates the fortune of the chief: 

ingled, sways the breast. 


JANUARY. 25 

And shakes the frame, when Fawdon's ghost appears, 

Perhaps the godly lives, the fearless deaths 

Triumphant, of the men who, on the field, 

Or not less honourable scaffold, fell, 

Asserting Freedom and Religion's cause, 

Arouse each generous feeling of the soul ; 

Or Ramsay's page pourtrays the rural life 

In all the grace of truth ; or Burns calls forth 

Each passion at his will ; then, with a smile, 

A beauteous winning smile of Nature's face, 

Soothes their fell storm into a gentle calm. 

This is no tale which fabling poet dreams, 
No fancied picture of some former age 
When truth, and plain though useful knowledge dwelt 
With virtue, pure religion, simple joy, 
And innocence, beneath the rustic roof: 
No, 'tis a faithful portrait, unadorned, 
Of manners lingering yet in Scotia's vales. 
Still there, beside the church-yard path, is heard. 


26 BRITISH GEOR&lCSc 

From lowly dwelling, rise the noise confused 

Of many tongues, of some who com or seem 

To con with look intent, their little task ; 

There., still the village master and the priest 

Unite to spread instruction o'er the land. 

And let not him who ploughs a wide domain 

Ask, with contemptuous sneer, what that avails 

In making fruitful fields ? Are fields alone 

Worthy the culture of a fostering state ? 

What is a country rich in waving grain, 

In sweeping herds and flocks, barren of meir 

Or, fruitful of a race degenerate, sunk 

In gloomy ignorance, without a ray 

Of useful, or of pleasing lore, to cheer 

The listless hours, when labour folds his arms r 

What heart so base, so sordid, as engross, 

Not only all the luxuries and joys 

Which affluence can minister to man, 

But would, from common use, lock up the fount 

Of knowledge pure, lest men should be too wise! 


JANUARY,, 27 

What sacrilegious tongue dare to arraign 
The glorious work, by which the sacred page 
Was patent made to every eye that looks 
Upon the light of heaven, and blesses God 
That yet a brighter light illumes his soul I 
Who dares, with brow of adamant, maintain^ 
That Britain's sons, who sent him to defend 
Their rights, — whose delegated voice derives 
Its power from them, — dares, with a cynic jest; 
Deny the right of Englishmen to read I 


BRITISH GEORG1CS. 


FEBRUARY. 


-Sudden from the hills, 


Oer rocks and rvoods, in broad brown cataracts? 
d thousand snow-fed torrents shoot at once. 

Thomson, 


ARGUMENT. 

Mountain snorvs dissolving — River ice breaking—** 
Signs of Spring's approach — Ploughing' — Cidtiva- 
tion of waste land — Confrast between waste land 
and the same land in an improved state — Compost 
— Spreading manure in time of frost — Use of the 
brake in stiff soils — Farther signs of Spring — 
Lark — Crocus — Bees — Feeding of bees — Culiiva- 
tion of willows — Use of the willow tribes in de- 
fending the banks of rivers — Various other uses- 
Description of the inmates of a Blind Asvlim\ — Of 
a French captive* 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


FEBRUARY. 


1 he long-piled mountain-snows at last dissolve, 
Bursting the roaring river's brittle bonds. 
Ponderous the fragments down -the cataract shoot. 
And; buried in the boiling gulph below, 
Emerging^ re-appear, then roll along, 
Tracing their height upon the half-sunk trees. 
But slower, by degrees, the obstructed wave 
Accumulated, crashing, scarcely seems 
To move, pausing at times, until, upheaved 
In masses huge, the lower sheet gives wav- 


BRITISH GEORGICS* 

Bleak still, and winterly, o'er hill and dale,. 
Is nature's aspect : yet some pleasing signs, 
Some 1 heart-reviving preludes, faijit and few, 
Of Spring's sweet season, meet the eye or ear. 
When calm the eve, Fve heard the partridge call, 
And seen the pairing couple as they tripped 
Athwart the wreaths that in the furrows lurk : 
And even the rere-mouse, when the twilight sleeps-; 
Unbreathing, spreads her torpid wings, and round 
From stack to house or barn, and round again. 
With many a sudden turn, flits and eludes 
The eye. Than these no surer signs presage 
An early seed-time, and an early braird. 

And now, when sun and wind have dried the fields, 
'Tis time to clear your ploughshare in the glebe. 
If deep you wish to go, or if the soil 
Be stiff and hard, or not yet cleared of stones, 
The Scottish plough, drawn by a team four strong 
Your purpose best will suit; quick it divides 


FEBRUARY. S3 

The tumbling mould, while, whistling as he drives, 
The merry plough-boy cheers the cold bleak day. 
But if from nature, or from art, the soil 
Be soft and friable, the smaller plough, 
Drawn by one pair, obedient to the voice, 
And double rein held by the ploughman's hand, 
Moves right along, or winds as he directs. 

\ 

But small degree of skill needs he, whose soil 

Already by the plough has been subdued. 

It is the old uncultivated waste, 

Where yet. the moor hen *, 'mid the bushy heatlu 

Her nest conceals ; where hardy grass alone 

Of coarsest kind, with ling or furze, afford 

A scanty sustenance to flock or herd, — 

Tis chiefly there that judgment is required; 

For there experience is as yet confined, 

While wide the range of objects that demand 

* Female of the Gorcock* 

€ 


34* BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Discernment, in the choice of various means., 
To make the desart blossom as the rose. 

Some fail to cultivate their upland wilds, 
Fearing the cold and bleakness of the clime 
May baffle all attempts the soil to mend. 
Fear not or cold or wet, if, lurking low, 
The daisy's leaf is seen ; or if the briar 
Erect its prickly stems ; or bramble stretch 
Its shoots athwart your path, or clover blades, 
Though small and close, around the sheep-fold spring, 

Begin where fewest obstacles oppose : 
Choose patches here and there, though small, nor mind 
The squaring of your fields. The sunny side 
Of gentle slope is first to be preferred ; 
For there, if wet the soil, (unless a spring 
Oozing, deep-seated, rear a plashy sward), 
'Tis easily laid dry ; and there the Sun, 
Great fertilizer ! on the fallow mould 


FEBRUARY. 

Strikes powerfully, when at his summer height, 
With perpendicular ray. On such a spot 
First draw a furrow up and down, 
Then, turning to the right two furrow-breadtlis. 
Lay up the mould to meet the former cut. 
Proceeding thus, though only half the space 
Hath felt the share, the glebe lies all exposed : 
And thus on each side the inverted tilth, 
A channel, smooth and firm at bottom, run?. 
Bearing all surface water down the slope. 
To dry and pulverize at once the soil, 
No mode of tillage is more useful found, 
Than this so simple. But the full effect 
Is not obtained, unless the circling year 
Upon your fallow ground its influence sbed,— 
The moody spring-time's fitful heat and cold, 
The summer's steady warmth, the autumn's winds 
And drenching rains, with winter's frost and thaw* 
These changes break the most obdurate soil, 
And make it crumble to receive the air, 


36 BRITISH GEORGICS, 

Freathing the breath of vegetable life. 
Then with the plough again, and yet again, 
Subdue it well, nor doubt a green crop, strong 
And plentiful, your labours will rewardf 
When so prepared, profusely spread it o'er 
With limestone crumbling into snowy dust. 

But if, as oft befalls, a tilly soil 
Derive but slight improvement from the plough, 
And lime, though dealt with an unsparing hand,—? 
The river bed, where join the stream and pool, 
Presents a cheap manure : or, if at hand 
No current bickers o'er its pebbly bar, 
Explore where with a gentle slope declines 
The hill into the plain ; there often lies 
A gravelly layer, precious though little prized. 
Sometimes a spring will point the place where lurks 
A magazine immense : if sand appear 
Around the source, be sure that underneath 
A stratum more or less is to be found. 


FEBRUARY, 37 

Or, if your soil be light, still to the brook 

Or oozing springs resort. 'Tis there are found 

Variety of earths ; for every stream, 

Whether it flow, broad gleaming in the sun, 

A river fair ; or, hidden from the view, 

Mine its meandering course beneath the ground, 

A little fount ; each visits various soils, 

Which to the bottom fall, or side are thrown. 

Where haunts the woodcock, now about to wing 

His way to colder climes, I've seen a spot 

Of vivid green, beneath whose spongy sward 

A store of richest mud lay broad and deep. 

Bear then this truth in mind, — Where'er a spring 

Or water runnel flows, there lies a mine, 

If right applied, of meliorating earth, 

Though cheap, not to be scorned ; if pebbly sand, 

To clay applied, it opens and resolves ; 

If clay or mud, compacts the gravelly soil 

But trust not wholly to manures bestowed 


38 BRITISH GE0HGIC9. 

By nature's boon ; for, though you thus may throw 
A vivid verdure o'er the sterile waste, 
The meliorated field, without manure, 
Supplied by herd or flock, relapses soon, 
And heathy sprigs, with herbage coarse, and shoots 
Of broom, or gorse, its former state betr&y. 
Attempt not, then, on recent land to boast 
Wide fields of waving grain ; by slow degrees 
Proceed ; the broad-leaved plants at once reward 
Your husbandry, and more improve the soil. 
Nor long the time till, thoroughly reclaimed, 
The new-gained crofts uninjured will sustain 
Whate'er the oldest cultured lands produce. 

By sucb resources so applied, I've seen, 
As if it were, a new creation smile ; 
Have seen the clover, red and white, supplant 
The purple heath-bell ; rustling ears succeed 
The dreary stillness of the lurid moor ; 
The glutted heifer lowing for the pail, 


FEBRUARY. 39 

Where starving sheep picked up their scanty fare ; 
The sheltering hawthorn blossom, where the furze 
Its rugged aspect reared ; and I have heard, 
Where melancholy plovers hovering screamed, 
The partridge-call, at gloamin's lovely hour, 
Far o'er the ridges break the tranquil hush ; 
And morning-larks ascend with songs of joy, 
Where erst the whinchat chirped from stone to stone. 

What unalloyed delight to him whose hands 
Performed the change, to wander o'er his mead 
At setting sun, and think, This work is mine ! 
Or, looking down upon his hedge-row trees, 
Anticipate the pleasure of their shade ! 
Not to himself, or scarcely to himself, 
But to the sweet interrogating wight 
Whom by the hand he leads ! O happy lot I 
Compared to his, who, pent in city lane, 
Broods o'er his cyphered columns, casting up, 
From time to time, the total of his pelf, 


40 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

And grudging sore, that in a few short years, 
He and his treasure must for ever part. 

The compost pile examine now and turn, 
And, if 'tis not completely decomposed 
Into one mass of vegetable mould, 
With an unsparing hand throw in more lime. 
When unremitting cold retards the stage 
Of fermentation, heat, then, genial heat, 
Must be applied ; nor hesitate to use 
A little casement sloping to the sun 
Like garden hot-bed : covering but a part, 
The process, once begun, pervades the whole, 

If frost returning interrupt the plough, 
Then is the time, along the hardened ridge. 
To drive manure, and toss around the heaps,, 
O'er all the surface equally dispread, 
Not scattered carelesslv. 


FEBRUARY. 41 

If stiff the soil, 
The larger harrow, called by some the brake, 
Will much avail : across, and yet across, 
Drag it with team four strong, and raise a cloud 
Of dust ; then with the lesser harrow close, 
Braying your soil till scarce a clod remain, 
On which preluding lark may sit and sing. 

How sweet, when winter's roughest mood is o'er, 
The first note of the lark ! How beautiful 
The crocus shooting leafless through the ground 
Its simple floweret, prized because it blows 
The harbinger of Spring ! To me more sweet 
The first song of the lark, though briefly trilled^ 
Than all the summer music of the groves ; 
More beautiful to me the vernal bud, 
Than all the odour-breathing flowers of May, 

Sometimes, deceived by promise premature 
Of Spring's approach, or pinched by empty combs,, 


42 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Forth from the hive some straggling bees will peep, 
And, buzzing on the outside of their porch, 
Will try their wings, but not attempt to fly : 
Here profit prompts, if pity ask in vain, 
To save the falling state : Nor large the boon 
They crave ; — the refuse of the summer spoil, 
Or syrup of the cane in bourtree * trough, 
Pushed softly in, will help them till the down 
Hang on the willow tree, than which no flower 
Yields fruit more grateful to the frugal tribes. 
Nor is there found a crop that yields increase 
More sure, abundant, and at smaller charge, 
Than does the willow grove ; and now is come 
The fittest time the limber slips to plant. 
Choose well the spot : it is not every marsh, 
Or boggy nook, will suit. Wherever springs, 
Not deep, nor difficult to trace, ooze out, 
Drenching the ground ; and where, at little cost,. 

* Elder, 


FEBRUARY. 43 

A large extent of field may be laid dry, 
Tis fitting there to draw the slanting drain, 
And change the swamp into a grassy mead : 
But where a head-spring long eludes the search, 
And, though detected, as you ween, and led 
In stony fetters, still breaks out, and spreads 
A deep green patch amid your waving corn, 
There yield to nature ; there the willow plant. 
It will not draw the water off, but change 
The water into gold : it needs nor plough, manure, 
Nor weeding hand : fair seasons, drought, or rain, 
Or cold, — to it all weather is alike. 
A broad and open ditch drawn round the whole, 
With here and there a trench transverse, will serve 
At once for fence, and give a surface crust : 
This all the culture that the willow seeks.. 

The bending willow loves itself to see 
Reflected in the stream ; there osier slips 
Will thrive, and with reticulated roots 


4?4? BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Will fortify your bank ; let them not grow 

To trees, but close and thick, that in the tangled wreck 

Of winter-floods, the water-ouzeFs nest 

May find concealment from the schoolboy's eye. 

A bank so shielded needs no other fence, 

No stony bulwark, nor the wattled sod, 

Compared to this, the alder's warping roots 

Afford ambiguous aid ; for on the stem, 

Unyielding to the current, wintry floods 

Impetuous bear, till, loosened by degrees, 

The tree falls prone, and tears an open breach, 

While harmlessly along the osiered bank 

The swollen stream glides through the bending twigs. 

Which feebly foil, and pliantly resist. 

To name the uses of the willow tribes 
Were endless task. The basket's various forms 
For various purposes of household thrift ; 
The wicker chair of size and shape antique ; 
The rocking couch of sleeping infancy ; 


FEBRUARY. 45 

These, with unnumbered other forms and kinds, 
Give bread to hands unfit for other work. 
The man bowed down with age, the sickly youth, 
The widowed mother with her little child, 
That lends its aid and loves to be employed, 
Find,, from this easy toil, a help in need. 
The blind man's blessing lights on him who plants 
An osier bed : O I have seen a smile 
Of mild content upon the assembled groupe 
Of piteous visages, whose dexterous hands, 
Taught by the public care, plied the light task ; 
And I have heard, their hour of labour done, 
That simple, sacred strain, By Babel's streams, 
Rise from the sightless band, with such a power 
Of heart-dissolving melody, — move such a host 
Of strong o'erwhelming feelings in the breast, 
As wrung a tear from most obdurate eyes. 

Once I beheld a captive, whom these wars 
Had made an inmate of the prison-house, 


46 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Cheering with wicker-work, (that almost seemed 
To him a sort of play), his dreary hours. 
I asked his story : in my native tongue, 
(Long use had made it easy as his own), 
He answered thus : — Before these wars began, 
I dwelt upon the willowy banks of Loire : 
I married one who, from my boyish days, 
Had been my playmate. One morn, — I'll ne'er for- 
get !— 
While busy chusing out the prettiest twigs, 
To warp a cradle for our child unborn, 
We heard the tidings, that the conscript-lot 
Had fallen on me ; it came like a death-kneiL 
The mother perished, but the babe survived ; 
And ere my parting day, his rocking couch 
I made complete, and saw him sleeping smile, — 
The smile that played upon the cheek of her 
Who lay clay-cold. Alas ! the hour soon came 
That forced my fettered arms to quit my child ; 
And whether now he lives to deck with flowers 


FEBRUARY. 47 

The sod upon his mother's grave, or lies 
Beneath it by her side, I ne'er could learn : 
I think he's gone, and now I only wish 
For liberty and home, that I may see, 
And stretch myself and die upon that grave. 


BRITISH GEORGICS, 


MARCH. 


Now lav 3 rocks wake the merry morn, 

Aloft on dewy wing ; 
The merle, in his noon-tide bower, 

Makes woodland echoes ring. 

Burn* 


ARGUMENT. 

Ploughing — Larks — Books — Sea-fowl — Description 
of an old husbandman — Directions in agriculture 
by him, as to ploughing, rotation of crops, 8$c. — 
Sowing — Harrowing — Paring and burning — A* 
postrophe to Fire — Proposal for applying fre by 
means of a roller — Culture of cottar's garden and 
potatoe-plat — Hen and chickens — Bees — Spring 
flowers— -Signs of good climate and soil. 


BRITISH GEORGICS, 


MARCH. 


JlXaised by the coming plough, the merry lark 

Upsprings, and, soaring, joins the high-poised choirs 

That carol far and near, in spiral flight 

Some rising, some descending, some beyond 

The visual ken, making the vaulted sky 

One vast orchestra, full of joyful songs, 

Of melodies, to which the heart of man, 

Buoyant with praise, in unison responds. 

If with the rooks, that on the ploughman's steps 

Frequent alight, a flock of sea-fowl join, 

Trust not the sky serene, but look for change : 


52 BRITISH GEORGICS, 

Urge then your task, and let the sun go down 
Upon your toil, nor loose the reeking yoke 
Till in the east the rising stars appear. 

A man I knew, bowed down with age and toil > 
Who dwelt upon the pleasant banks of Clyde : 
Deep-read he was in books, and was by some 
A wizard deemed, because he would maintain, 
That in the heavens the sun stood motionless, 
And that the earth moved circling. He at eve, 
When summer eves were long, would sit and mend 
His horses gear, and teach me, glad to learn, 
His rustic lore. u One ploughing, (oft he'd say), 
P Ere hoof-prints frozen white indent the ground, 
ge Is worth a score when winter frosts have ceased 
" To penetrate the mould. Let then the plough 
€t The sickle follow soon ; and when the fields 
u Are bare, and mornings clear and ealm 
e€ Begin with hoar-frost to encrust the sward, 
u Plough down the whitened stubble, turning up 


MARCH. 53 

tc The reeking tilth to feel the genial beam. 

" 'Tis change from heat to cold, from cold to heat 

€C Alternating, that, more than tillage, breaks 

(C The obdurate soil : change is the very life 

(< And soul of husbandry ; 'tis change of crops, 

" By some rotation termed, that makes the ground 

iC Perform its task with unexhausted power. 

<e The broad-leaved plants, whose product is their root, 

<c They least exhaust ; and next the legume tribes, 

" With leaves less broad, and odoriferous flowers, 

" That in the month of June make travellers pause ; 

Cf These, through their porous and extended blades, 

" Draw from the air a portion of their food. 

u The plants with narrow and spear-pointed blades. 

iC Of seed prolific, they exhaust the most ; 

(C For from the suffering soil is chiefly drawn 

€C Their sustenance. Two scourging crops of these 

<: Who sows successively, defrauds the soil. 

u But 'tis not only that the broad-leaved kinds 

u Draw from the fostering earth a smaller share 


54* BRITISH GEQRGICS. 

ts Of vegetable food ; no, of itself 

" The different mode of action saves the power 

" Exerted : things inanimate acquire 

" New power by change, like those endowed with life* 

u How light the flail swings in my weary hands, 

u When sudden frost has midway down the ridge 

iC The plough arrested ! so when from the barn 

u I seek the field again, each labour there 

tf Seems for a time like rest/'— ■ 

Vicissitude, 
In all its forms, how grateful ! — night and morn ; 
The lengthening day foretelling summer flowers. 
While close they lurk enfolded in their buds. 
As yet invisible ; the twilight long 
Of Summer's eve, that almost joins the dawn ; 
The ruddy dawn, all hush, till blythsome springs 
The earliest lark, and carols in the beam 
That, upward slanting, gilds his quivering throat ; 
f he noontide's fervid glare, when panting herds 


MARCH. 50 

Betake them to the stream, lashing their sides ; 
The harvest's rustle, and the lengthened nights 
Of moonshine sweet ; the redbreast's song 
Announcing Winter near ; and Winter's self, 
With nights of fireside joys, homebred delights, 
And days though short, yet not without their charm.; 

Now, at the ridge end stands the well-filled sack. 
And hive inverted, while the sower steps, 
With loaded sheet, along the furrowed ridge, 
And flings the seed with equal crescent sweep, 
Rejoicing in the tide, and pleased to close 
His blinded eyes, as on the adjoining ridge 
The passing harrows raise the golden * dust. 

W T hile dry and keen the east wind down the vale 
Sweeps piercingly, and makes the violet-bud, 
Shrinking, delay to spread its purple flower ; 

* According to an old proverb, « An ounce of March dust 
is Morth a pound of gold." 


56 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

While youngling rooks, rocked in their airy nests, 

Importunate, with ceaseless cawing, tire 

The ear, as on the swinging bough the dam 

Scarce keeps her perch, and deals the new-gleaned seed, 

Then is the time, upon the barren moor, 

To prove your skill. Where'er, by nature dry, 

It stretches far with coarsest grasses spread, 

Upon a soil of shallow half-formed moss, 

With gritty mould beneath, there pare the turf, 

And lay it loosely up, in hollow heaps, 

Triangular ; next kindle each, till far 

The smoky clouds float rolling o'er the waste, 

While plovers, screaming, sport amid the wreaths ; 

The ashes duly spread, no need you have 

For more manure, but instant urge the plough, 

That when sweet May puts on her hawthorn crown. 

The new-gained field, laid down in seemly drills^ 

May ready for the turnip seed-time lie. 

Nor is it solelv on the barren moor 


MARCH. 57 

This mode is used ; the lea that oft before 
Hath felt the opening share, much gain derives 
From fire ; fields so prepared, whate'er the crop, 
Are free from grub and insect, and each pest 
That blights the farmer's hope. 

All powerful Fire ! 
The time is not remote, when, in the field 
Of peaceful toil, (as now on bloody plains 
The warrior's direst instrument thou art), 
By all thou shalt be hailed the engine prime 
Of husbandry ! Nor only in degrees, 
So high as to calcine, thy power is proved ; 
Upon the new-ploughed tilth, where seeds and germ,? 
Of noxious herbs and embrio vermin lurk, 
Thy subtle element will parch the springs 
Of insect and of vegetable life. 

But how to bend the still ascending power,- 
And make it downward act., requires much thought} 


58 BRITISH GEOHG.ICS. 

More knowledge in the chemic art abstruse, 
Than falls to bard. Yet will I venturous dare. 
And should I fail, perchance some better skilled 
May light the flame, where I but strike a spark. — 
Use not direct combustion to the tilth ; 
Vain were your cost and pains in such attempt ; 
Accumulate the power ; and what so fit 
As iron to retain or to convey, 
With equal energy or down or up, 
The wondrous element, which, save when bound 
In chains metallic, still to heaven aspires ? 
And what more fitting form at once to hold 
The kindled fuel, and apply the heat, 
Than one well known, — the rolling cylinder, 
Of bulk capacious ? Glowing o'er the field 
Behold it slowly drawn, and see the ridge 
Send, from the hissing track, a steaming cloud. 

But these are schemes for men of wide domain*. 
Which glad I leave to greet the lowly cot. 


MARCH. 59 

No month demands more of the cottar's care 
Than this ; — the garden and potatoe plat 
Should now be delved, and, with no sparing hand. 
Manured ; a task performed at twilight hours 
When stated labour ends ; for now the day 
Is equal with the night, and in the west 
Faint lingers, with a pleasant parting smile. 
The dibbling done, the dropping of the chips 
Is left to little hands, well pleased to lend 
Their feeble help : meanwhile the parents view 
The finished work, anticipating years 
When these weak hands will cherish their old age,, 
And lay their heads in peace below the turf. 

Oft in this month the cottage hen comes forth, 
Attended by her brood, down-clad, yet poorly fenced 
Against the eastern blast, that frequent brings 
A shower of biting hail, which, as it falls, 
The inexperienced younglings eager chace, 
And peck the pattering drops : forbid not then 


60 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

The clamorous flock, in quest of crumbs, to haunt 
The fireside nook : how pleasant 'tis to hear 
The summoning call whene'er the prize is found ! 
Or see the eager mother gather in 
Her tiny justling brood, beneath the chair 
On which the thrifty housewife sits and spins; 
Or if, to approach this citadel, intruding cur 
Presume, then see her issue forth, with plumes 
All ruffled, and attack the foe, and drive 
Him, howling, out of doors, drooping his tail, 
And shaking, as he runs, his well-pounced ears, 

This renovating season, too, calls forth 
The humming tribes ; for now the willow leaves. 
And downy flowers on river-loving palms, 
Afford materials for the curious cell ; 
And oft, even in this chill ambiguous month* 
The labourers return with loaded thighs. 
Therefore by day their gateway-porch enlarge. 
But still at eve let it be closed secure, 


MARCH. 61 

Lest nightly winds, now in the brooding time. 
Should, sifting in, the genial process mar. 
Nor now withhold, if much reduced their store, 
The needful loan ; for yet few flowers are founds 
And these quite honeyless, — the daisy fair, 
Basking upon some sunny-sheltered slope, 
The snow-drops, and the violets that couch 
On woody but still shadeless banks, and lead, 
With fragrance wafted from their purpled bed, 
The wandering step to hail the vernal joy, 
The virgin breath of Spring, her fairest bloom, 

No surer sign is known of climate mild, 
And kindly soil, than early woodland flowers, 
And chief the violet : it marks a dry, 
A crumbling, active mould ; nor less the thorn, 
"Neath which it blows, if early clothed with leaves, 
Screening from prying eyes the thrush's nest, 
Bespeaks a genial soil,, and clime benign. 


62 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

The early song of birds, if clear and full, 
Ere yet the primrose blow, they too bespeak 
A smiling sky ; but of them all, the lark 
Affords the surest signs —if high he soar, 
And higher still, as if he circling scaled 
Some airy pyramid, until his lessening bulk 
At last eludes the weary sight, while faint 
His song at times still meets the doubting sense, 
Be sure the higher regions of the air, 
Around the buoyant chorister, breathe soft, 
Breathe placidly ; — and when the welkin's warm, 
Nor sudden frost nor rain will harm your fields. 


BRITISH GEORGICS, 


APRIL. 


Now blooms the lily by the bank, 
The primrose down the brae, 

The hawthorns budding in the glen, 
And milk-white is the she. 


Burns. 


ARGUMENT. 

Address to April — Characteristics of the month — * 
Time for baiiey sowing — Steeping of seed — Fences 
—Condemnation of the practice of smashing hedges 
*— Faults in the mode of hedge-planting pointed out 
—A better mode recommended— Rustic courtship — ■ 
A wedding. 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


APRIL. 

I hrough boughs still leafless, or through foliage thin, 
The sloping primrose-bed lies fair exposed, 
Begemmed with simple flowers, gladdening the sight,. 
Hail ! month of buds and blooms, of shooting blades 
That spread the fallow fields with vivid green ! 
Hail, Nature's birth-time ! hail, ye gentle showers 
That, in the opening blossoms, lie like tears 
In infant eyes, soon giving place to smiles, 
To sunny smiles of peace, of joy serene. 
How calm the woods ! as if they all had stilled 
Their waving branches, listening to the songs 

E 


66' BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Of love-tuned ditties,, warbled sweet from thorns 
Enwreathed with forming flowers : all other sounds 
Are hushed, — unless, scared from the brooding task. 
By man's approach, the sudden whirring wing 
Betray the bush where hangs half hid the nest : 
Return, poor bird ! I'll find another path, 
Until thy pleasing task be done ; return, 
('Tis not the spoiler's step), complete thy work. 
Cheered by thy twig-perched mate : enough for mt 
To hear his song, far sweeter there, I ween, 
Than, through the wirey grate, a captive's lay. 

Now clover fields expand the luscious bladc\ 
But tender still, while, on the upland leas, 
The 3'eanlings stagger round their bleating dams : 
The orchard's drooping boughs put forth their blooms \ 
Purple of loveliest hue yblent with white : 
The sweetbrier's buds unfold ; and perfumed gales 
A lullaby o'er Nature's cradle sigh. 


APRIL. 67 

Soon as the earliest swallow skims the mead, 
The barley sowing is by some begun ; 
While others wait until her clay-built nest, 
Completed, in the window-corner hang; 
Or till the schoolboy mock the cuckoo's note. 
He that would reap a plenteous barley crop, 
Should in saline infusion drench the seed; 
For thus the nascent embryo, ere it shoots, 
Is fortified against the ravenous grub. 
When so prepared, no dwarfish patch deforms 
The field irregular, but every ridge 
Erects its bristling awns, equal in height, 
Like steely points by marshalled phalanx reared. 

The seed-time closed, the fences, hedge and ditch; 
Demand your tendance ; first the ditches clear, 
And then, with cautious hand, the hedges lop,. 
Broad at the bottom, tapering by degrees, 
Ass to the. top the shears or bill ascend. 


6S BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Some husbandmen, as if by rage impelled, 
With unrelenting hatchets, level low 
Each full-grown hedge, just as it gains its prime,— 
Now in its full blown beauty : withering, soiled, 
The flowery branches lie, with here and there 
A ruined nest inverted, while behold ! — 
'Stead of the sheltering thicket stretching fair,— 
A row of stumps, from which, in future years. 
Another hedge, of weaker stem and twig, 
May spring again to shield the fenceless croft, 
And whence this love of massacre ! this rage 
Perverse, unnatural, so near a-kin 
To that propensity, infecting some 
Who think, — that Nature gave the noble. steed 
A spine six joints too long; that ears acute 
Deform the head, and should be roundly pared ; 
And that the neck surmounted by the mane, 
The cloud where dwells the thunder, is improved 
When modelled by the bristling back of hog ! 


MARCH, 69 

Oft times, 'tis true, a single row of thorns 
Is found a feeble fence ; but to destroy 
That row, is not the mode to give it strength. 
The error lies in planting single rows ; — 
And, heedless of variety of soil, 
Clay, sand, or gravel, — dry, or wet, or cold,~ 
Planting the hawthorn shrub as fit for all. 
In marshy soils, the hawthorn, covered o'er 
With lichen gray, appears an aged bush 
While only young, and in this bloomy month 
Puts forth no blossom : stuntedly it grows. 
With sickly sprays in dusky foliage robed. 

Nor is the single stripe preferred for thrift 
Of ground : observe the space it occupies ; — 
The bank, which common custom thus allots. 
Contains full oft a space from side to side 
Superfluous, which, if used aright, would give 
A fence impregnable to herd or flock. 
The genius of the thorn is misconceived:? 


70 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

It loves not solitude ; like all the tribes 
With prickles armed, the under-growth of woods> 
It thrives most vigorously when interwarped 
With kindred, not with sister shrubs : Observe, 
In woodland glades, the thickets that present 
The closest barrier to the rambling step, 
Are those where shrubs of various kinds combine. 
A hedge should be a thicket lengthened out, 
Where, though one plant may fail (and if one plant 
In hedges of a single file decay, 
The flaw is rarely cured), 'tis scarcely missed, 
Let then your bulging quickset-bank be clothed, 
From side to side, with shrubs of various kinds. 
Let hawthorn chief prevail, but with it mix 
The bramble with its stretching limbs ; the brier. 
Whose prickly leaves and twigs resent the touch 
Of hostile mouth ; the sloethorn's hardy spray, 
Unbending, armed with formidable prongs ; 
The plumtree wild, the willow, and the whin, 
Of brilliant golden hue ; where ; blossom«perched ; 


APRIL. 71 

Carols the linnet * of the roseat plumes. 

Let these, united in confusion strong, 

Grow up unchecked, save at the bounding line ] 

There place your foot, let not a twig encroach. 

Thus on a space, not more than what you wast^ 

In fostering, with thriftless care and cost, 

A single row of plants, (which, like a chaim 

Is useless if a single link give way), 

You rear a verdant mound,, combining strength 

And durability with beauty's charm, — 

Displaying, from the time of opening buds 

Till ripening grain wave girt in its embrace, 

An ever- varying wreath of flowers and fruits, 

Which, to an eye that's fanciful, might seem 

A crown encircling Ceres' rustling head, 

Now, 'mid the general glow of opening blooms, 
Coy maidens blush consent, nor slight the gift, 
Prom neighbouring fair brought home, till now refused. 

* The rose linnet. 


72 BRITISH GEOEGICS. 

Swains, seize the sunny hours to make your hay. 
For woman's smiles are fickle as the sky : 
Bespeak the priest, bespeak the minstrel too, 
Ere May, to wedlock hostile, stop the banns. 

The appointed day arrives, a blythesome day 
Of festive jollity ; yet not devoid 
Of soft regret to her about to leave 
A parent's roof; yes, at the word join hands, 
A tear reluctant starts, as she beholds 
Her mother's looks, her father's silvery hairs. 
But serious thoughts take flight, when from the bariK 
Soon as the bands are knit, a jocund sound 
Strikes briskly up, and nimble feet beat fast 
Upon the earthen floor. Through many a reel, 
With various steps uncouth, some new, some old, 
Some all the dancer's own. with Highland flings 
Not void of grace, the lads and lasses strive 
To dance each other down ; and oft, when quite 
Forespent, the fingers merrily cracked, the bound.. 


APRIL. 7 

The rallying shout well-timed, and sudden change 
To sprightlier tune, revive the flagging foot, 
And make it feel as if it tripped in air. 

When all are tired, and all his stock of reels 
The minstrel, o'er and o'er again, has run, 
The cheering flaggon circles round ; meanwhile 
A softened tune, and slower measure, flows 
Soft from the strings, and stills the boisterous joy, 
May be, The Bonny Broom of Cowdenhiows, 
(If simply played, though not with master hand), 
Or Patie's Mill, or Bush aboon Traqnair, 
Inspire a tranquil gladness through the breast ; 
Or that most mournful strain, the sad Lament 
For Floddenfield, drives mirth from every face, 
And makes the firmest heart strive hard to curb 
The rising tear, — till, with unpausing bow, 
The blythe strathspey springs up, reminding some 
Of nights when Gow's old arm, (nor old the tale) 5 
Unceasing, save when reeking cans went rounds 


74} BRITISH GEORGICS- 

Made heart and heel leap light as bounding roe, 
Alas ! no more shall we behold that look 
So venerable, yet so blent with mirth, 
And festive joy sedate ; that ancient garb 
Unvaried, — tartan hose, and bonnet blue ! 
No more shall Beauty's partial eye draw forth 
The full intoxication of his strain, 
Mellifluous, strong, exuberantly rich ! 
No more, amid the pauses of the dance a 
Shall he repeat those measures, that in days- 
Of other years, could soothe a failing prince, 
And light his visage with a transient smile* 
Of melancholy joy, — like autumn sun 
Gilding a sere tree with a passing beam f 
Or play to sportive children on the green 
Dancing at gloamin hour ; or willing cheer, 
With strains unbought, the shepherd s bridal-day ! 

But light now failing, glimmering candles shine 
I# ready chandeliers of moulded clay 


APRIL. 75 

Stuck round the walls, displaying to the view 
The ceiling, rich with cobweb-drapery hung. 
Meanwhile, from mill and smiddy, field and barn^ 
Fresh groupes come hastening in : but of them all 
The miller bears the gree, as rafter-high 
He leaps, and, lighting, shakes a dusty cloud all round, 

In harmless merriment protracted long, 
The hours glide by. At last, the stocking thrown, 
And duly every gossip rite performed, 
Youths, maids, and matrons, take their several ways i 
While drouthy carles, waiting for the moon, 
Sit down again, and quaff till day-light dawn, 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


MAY. 


Ilerba comis, iellus nitet herbis,frondibu$ arbor y 
Luxuriat lostum Iceta per arva pecus. 

Buchanan. 


ARGUMENT. 

Address to May-Some characteristics of the month— 
Clover ridge — Corncraik — Mowing for the stall 
recommended — Stall-feeding, unless in winter, un- 
known in former times — Herd-boy— His hut and 
occupations — Old manners giving way to the en- 
croachments of trade — Some remnants still to be 
found — Improvement of 7nosses — Effects of this 
"improvement in respect to certain birds — Descrip- 
tion of a family removing to a city — Miserable ef- 
fects of the change — Appeal to landed proprietors 
on this subject— ~Hints for chusing a farm. 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


MAY, 

OWEET month t thy locks with bursting buds be* 

gemmed, 
With opening hyacinths and hawthorn flowers^ 
Fair still thou art, though showers bedim thine eye, 
The cloud soon leaves thy brow, and mild the suri 
Looks out with watery beam, looks out and smiles. 

Light now the breezes sigh along the vale/ 
Gently they wave the rivulet's cascade, 
And bend the flowers, making the lily stoop 
As if to kiss its image in the stream> 


80 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Or curl, with gentlest breath, the glassy pool, 
Aiding the treachery of the mimic fly, 
While, crouching warily behind a bush, 
The angler screened, with keenest eye intent, 
Awaits the sudden rising of the trout : — 
Down dips the feathery lure ; the quivering rod 
Bends low : in vain the well-hooked captive strives 
To break the yielding line : his side upturned, 
Ashore he's drawn, and, on the mossy bank 
Weltering, he dyes the primrose with his blood* 

How gay the fields ! arrayed in lovely green 
Of various tint ; but deepest of them all 
The clover ridge, where now at eve is heard 
The corncraik's harsh, yet not unpleasing call., 
Oft pausing, still renewed from place to place. 
Vain all attempts to trace her by her note ; 
For, when the spot whence last it came is reached- 
Again 'tis heard hoarse harping far behind,—' 
Till silenced by the mower's rasping stone. 


MAW SI 

No use to which the clover field is put 
Repays so well as mowing for the stall, 
For not a blade is wasted ; while your herds. 
Screened from the sun, and from molesting bite 
Of vexing flies, peaceful enjoy the cool 
And fragrant meal, or drowsy chew the cud. 

In times of old, stall-feeding was unknown. 
Save during winter months : inciosures then 
Were rare, and every hill-side, every lea, 
And broomy bank, was vocal with the notes 
Of rustic pipe, or rudely chaunted rhymes, 
Responsive echoed wild from herd to herd *, 
Tending their charge of mingled sheep and kine. 
And still there may be seen, on Scotia's braes, 
The shepherd boy, with horn, and club, and dog,. 
Couched on the chequered plaid, and, at a side, 


* Used here in the Scotch sense, as signifying the keeter 
of the herd. 


82 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

His little turf-built hut, with boughs o'erlaid, 
Wherein are placed, from sudden shower secure, 
The Life of Wallace wight, with goodly store 
Of ballads old and new, which oft he cons. 
And thus, in pleasing solitude, he spends 
His harmless, not unprofitable hours. 
Till, by his brazen dial warned, he drives 
Homeward, at noon, his flock. 

O simple times 
Of peaceful innocence, fast giving way 
To Trade's encroaching power ! Yes, Trade ere long 
Will drive each older custom from the land, 
Will drive each generous passion from the breast. 
Even love itself, that in the peasant's heart 
Was wont to glow with pure and constant flame^ 
Now burns less purely than in times of old ; 
A fatal sign. Yet still the (C try sting thorn" 
Is seen to bloom elsewhere than in the song 
Of youthful bard : Beneath the greenwood tree. 


MAY. 83 

When on May morning, maids, to gather dew, 

Hie to the primrose bank, the mutual vow 

Is pledged, and hallowed kept, though absence, war, 

And, keenest pang ! supposed forgetfulness, 

Conspire to shake -the true and trusting heart : 

Still in the gloamin, by the river side, 

When calmness sleeps upon the smooth expanse, 

And all is hush, save plunge of sportive trout, 

(Propitious hour !) fond lovers meet and stray, 

Forgetful of the time, till, from below 

The adverse bank, peeps out the warning moon* 

In moorland farms, the season now invites 
Him, who would change the heath-flower for the pea a 
To draw his drains both deep and broad, with sides 
Of easy slope. Seldom three ells in width, 
And two in depth, are, by experience, found 
Unsuitable, Where mosses level stretch, 
With hoary cannachs bending in the blast, 
There wider* -deeper scoop : far slowly there — 


SJ? BRITISH GEORGICS» 

The sable current flows : yet, to an eye 
That's skilful ; rarely will there want some line,. 
Which, though descending with a gentle slope. 
Scarcely perceptible, will yet afford 
A fall sufficient to lay dry the whole. 

But though laid dry, 'tis yet unfit to bear 
The labouring team, and, for some years, the spade 
Must turn the spongy soil, and form the ridge. 
Chiefly with lime, profusely scattered, mix 
The surface soil, while in a moistened state ; 
For, when devoid of moisture, moss resists 
The caustic power, and lies a useless pulp. 

From desarts thus reclaimed, some vainly hope 
At once to reap a rustling crop, but find 
Frustrate their hopes, and seed and labour lost, 
During the first two years potatoes yield 
A sure increase, abundant ; for their leaves 
Luxuriant shade the open soil* that else? 


MAY. SJ 

Unable to retain or dew or genial shower. 

Arid and steril lies. Besides, the plants 

Of taller stem require a firmer hold 

Than moss affords, which, but by slow degrees 

Subsiding into solid mould, displays 

A waste transformed into a waving plain. 

No more the heath-fowl there her nestling brood 
Fosters, no more the dreary plover plains ; 
And when, from frozen regions of the pole, 
The wintry bittern, to his wonted haunt, 
On weary wing, returns, he finds the marsh 
Into a joyless stubble ridge transformed, 
And mounts again to seek some watery wild, 

These tribes, exiled, another resting place, 
Adapted to their wants, soon find : but man, 
When forced his dwelling-place to leave, the field? 
Which he and his forefathers ploughed, and seeks* 
A] as ! to find some other home of peace. 


S6i BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Where he may live a tiller of the ground, 

He seeks in vain ; sad the reverse which he 

And his are doomed to prove ! — no choice is left 

But exile to a foreign shore, or, worse, 

To darksome city lane. Behold the band, 

With some small remnant of their household gear, 

Drawn by the horse which once they called their own ;■ 

Bejiold them take a last look, of that roof, 

From whence no smoke ascends, and onward move 

In silence ; whilst each passing object wakes 

Remembrances of scenes that never more 

Will glad their hearts ; — the mill, the smiddy blaze 

So cheerful, and the doubling hammer's clink, 

Now dying on the ear,, now on the breeze 

Heard once again. Ah, why that joyous bark 

Precursive !. Little dost thou ween, poor things 

That ne'er again the slowly-stepping herd, 

And nibbling flock, thou It drive a-field or home ; 

That ne'er again thou'lt chace the limping hare, 

While, knowing well thy eager yelp, she scorns 


MAY. &?• 

Thy utmost Speed, and, from the thistly lea r 
Espies, secure, thy puzzled fruitless search. 
Now noisome alleys, and the crowded street* 
Thy haunts must be. 

But soon thou wilt forget 
The cheerful fields ; not so the infant train, 
Thy playmates gay ; not so the exiles old, 
Who thought at last, below yon church-yard elms,. 
Now fading from their view, to lay their heads 
In peace ; they, old and young, ne'er will forget 
Their former happy home. Oft from their high 
And wretched roof, they look, trying, through clouds 
Of driving smoke, a glimpse of the green fields . 
To gain, while, at the view, they feel their hearts. 
Sinking within them. Ah ! these vain regrets 
For happiness, that now is but a dream, 
Are not their sorest evil ; no, disease 
(The harvest of the crowded house of toil) 
Approaches, withering first the opening bloom 


88 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Of infant years : — As wild flowers, which the hand 

Of roaming botanist, from some sweet bank, 

Remote in woodland solitudes, transplants 

To his rank garden mould, soon drop the head, 

And languish till they die ; so, pining, sink 

These little ones. O ! that heart-wringing cry, 

To take them home, — to take them home again,-—. 

Their ceaseless, death-bed cry, poor innocents ! 

Repeated while the power to lisp is theirs ;— 

Alas ! that home no more shall ye behold, 

No more along the thistly lea pursue 

The flying down ; no more, transported, rush 

From learning's humble door, with play-mates blythe, 

To gather pebbles in the shallow burn ; 

Death is your comrade now, the grave your home, 

O ye, whose princely territories stretch 
Afar o'er hill and dale, think, — ere ye sweep 
Your ancient tenantry from off the land,— 
That swollen rent-rolls are too dearly bought. 


MAY, 8£ 

By that enormous misery which ye hurl 
On ruined hundreds, to make way for one* 

Some ousted husbandmen, when other lands 
Are in their power, reject the golden boon, 
And often rue the occasion lost, deterred 
Too easily by fear, clothed in the garb 
Of prudence. Stunted crops, a scanty sward, 
Though doubtful signs, the over-prudent scare 
From lands oft times intrinsically rich. 
Some signs there are by nature pointed out, 
And not dependant on the care of man, 
All things disguising ; these will not mislead, 
These you may trust. The herbs, hung round with bells, 
Denote, unerringly, a soil that's dry ; 
And chief the fox-glove flower, wherein the bee 
Diving, concealed, extracts ambrosial food. 
The blue-bell, too, where'er the soil is moist, 
Ascends the sheep-fold's turfy bound, and shakes 
Its pretty flowerets in the July gale. 


90 BRITISH GEORGICSa 

Profusion even of weeds, o'ertopping rank 
The half-choaked growth of grain or pulse., 
Though most unsightly to the well-skilled eye 
Of husbandry, are signs, that in the soil 
There is a vigorous, though neglected power. 
Nor be forgot the broom's thick clustering blow, 
Whose blazing brightness on a day of June 
Dazzles, the eye, making it fain to rest 
On flowers of soberer hue : sometimes with growtfe. 
So strong, luxuriantly strong, it shoots, 
That scarcely o'er the golden forest peers* 
The wildered heifer's horns, or higher crest 
Of proudly neighing steed* Doubt not that there 
A native pith of soil, a native warmth 
And kindliness resides ; rely that there 
Grain, pulse, or root, whate'er the crop, will yield 
An early and exuberant increase. 


BRITISH GEORGICS, 


JUNE. 


O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye 
Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns ; and all 
From pole to pole is undistinguished blaze. 

Thomson 


ARGUMENT. 

Stillness of noon, and general rest of nature — Perni- 
cious consequences, to men and cattle, of labour in 
the heat of the day^-Twenty hours of light at 
Mid-summer — Recommendation that the old custom 
of labourers sleeping at mid-day should be revived 
—Description of the dawn — Drill-ploughing of 
beanfeld — Reason of planting beans in drills, and 
culmiferous plants in the broadest way — Slopes best 
for beans — Time for weeding turnip-field with the 
plough — with the lioe — Cut down weeds on leas be-* 
fore seed formed — Some herbs that are classed with 
weeds ought to be spared — The aromatic tribes, 
mint, sage, thyme, of use against insects — Burning 
birch, broom, and bourtree blossoms between ridges 
of green crops a remedy against the fly — Plentiful 
manure the best preventive — Hay-making ; part of 
grass crop should be used for stall-feeding — Want 
<f shade hurtful to flocks — Plantations in sheep- 
walks — Places ft to be planted — Destruction of 
ancient foi'ests lamented — Ettrick — Tor wood — A- 
jpostrophe on the Battle of Bannockburn. 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


MAY. 

J3E Neath the fervour of the noon-tide beam. 
All Nature's works in placid stillness pauses- 
Save man, and his joint labourer the horse, 
The bee, and all the idly busy insect tribes ; 
Even 'mid the deepest groves, the merry bird 
Sits drowsily, with head beneath its wing ; 
Each woodland note is hushed, save when the plaint 
Of cooing ring-dove steals upon the ear. 
Let man the lesson read, and learn to know 
The seasons of the day, as of the year ; 
To mark the hours for labour and for tqs% 


94? BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Nor sacrifice convenience, ease, and healthy 

To method's rules., which only then are wise. 

When bending to the changing year's decree. 

The shortened reign of night, the early peep 

# 
Of dawn, protracted long, yet giving light 

Abundant for the labours of the field, 

Point out the hours for toil. Wiry should the plough, 

Or brandished hoe, gleam in the sultry ray, 

When man and beast, beneath a load of heat, 

Oft panting stop oppressed. Hence Fever comes. 

And hence the deadly sun-stroke ; hence old age. 

And prematurely lyart locks, to man ; 

And hence (what, in these calculating times,, 

Will seem of more account) an unseen loss, 

Proportioned to the cattle's shortened years. 

Wiser than we, our fathers, ere the dawn, 
Were in the field, and, when the sultry hours 
Approached, enjoyed soft sleep. Let us be taught 
By them ; by nature lengthening out our day 


JUNE* 95 

To twice ten hours, — and labour in the cool. 
Yes, — let the husbandman arouse to toil, 
While yet the sky a deep-empurpled tint 
Northward displays, — before the corncraik's call 
In mist- veiled meads awake the nestling lark, 
To hail the dawn. Sweet is the dubious bound 
Of night and morn, when spray and plant are drenched 
In dew ; sweet now the odour-breathing birch, 
The gaudy broom, the orchard's blushing boughs, 
The milk-white thorn, on which the blackbird roosts, 
Till light he shakes his ruffling plumes, and chaunts 
His roundelay; and sweet the bean-field rows, 
'Tween which the drilling plough is artful steered, 
Shaking the dew-drop gently from the bloom. 

See how the blooms around each bladed shoot, 
From root to summit cluster thick the stalk ; 
(A beauteous sceptre fit for Ceres' hand) — 
Then mark the contrast of the ear-crowned stalk, 
Barren below, and in that difference learn, 


9,6 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Why 5 'twixt the bean-field's marshalled ranks, is left- 
Free space for air and sun ; and why the spikes 
Of bearded grain wave equal o'er the plain. 
Hence, too, this lesson learn, — the sloping croft 
Suits well the podded kind ; for there soft Zephyr* 
Kissing the lowest flowers, refreshes all, 
Then waves his lingering wings, wafting afar 
A balmy odour : struck with new delight, 
The toil-worn traveller pauses on his w~ay # 
And, with a smile of pleasure, snuffs the air* 
Perhaps some veteran, whom Egyptic sands 
Have reft of sight, (O ! when will warfare cease ?J 
Leans on his staff, and wishes that but once. 
But only once, he could behold these blooms^ 
Which now recal his father's little field. 

Now is the time, before the thistle blow, 
While gule is in the flower, and charlock breathes 
Its cloying scent around, the weeding task 
To urge between the turnip's verdant ranks- 




JUSE. 97 

Emburied by the double mould-board, down 
On either side the noxious race are laid, 
While, by the waves of crumbling earth heaved up, 
The plants are cherished. 

Some the hoe prefer, 
Which female hands, or, if of lighter make, 
The childish grasp can wield ; even his small hands, 
Of years so simple, that he grieves to hurt 
The pretty flowers, which, strung about his neck, 
He wears with more delight than kings their crowns. 
Thus, too, the crop itself (soon as the plants 
Four leaves spread fully forth) is duly thinned. 

Besides the plough and hoe, the sweeping scythe 
Will much avail to wage the weeding war. — i 
If o'er your leas the yellov/ ragwort spread 
A gaudy forest ; or the seedy dock 
Uprear its stalk prolific ; or the tribe 
Of thistles fenced with prickly arms,-—spar3 m% 


93 BRITISH GEORGICS* 

The emblem dear, but ruthless lay it low, 

With all its brother cumberers of the ground : 

For, if allowed to stand, the down-winged seed 

Flies far, a pastime to your playful elves, 

To you a cause of meikle loss and bale. 

Let none of all the intrusive race even form 

Their seed; for know, — the fructifying stage 

Of vegetation most exhausts the soil ; 

And, though cut down before they shed their fruit. 

Mixed with the compost mound, they but create 

A magazine of poisons for your fields. 

Some herbs, that, to the unobserving eye 
Of ignorance, are prized of small account. 
Or classed with weeds, deserve a better name. 
And should be spared : The aromatic tribes, 
Mint, sage, and flowery thyme, are sovereign antidotes' 
Against the insect pest, powerful though small, 
Blighting at once the green leaf and the grain. 
Seldom I've seen this ruin ; where the buzz 


JUNE. 


W 


Of numerous bees comes from the wild-thyme balk, 

That parts the various crops. The smaller race 

Of insects shun most odours : hence our sires 

Around and in their gardens,, wont to rear 

The strong- fumed elder ; hence (the cause forgot) 

Our garden borders still with boxwood fringed. 

But if the tiny brood, — viewless at first* 

Save by the microscopic power, that opes 

The vast invisible of Nature's works, 

Minutely grand, — have gathered strength to foil 

Such weak annoyance ; fear not round your fields. 

Or even between your ridges, green and full 

v Of sap, to kindle heaps of birchen twigs • 

And bitter broom, mixed with the dark green leaves 

And blossoms white of elder ; — thick a cloud 

Of acrid smoke, in rolling wreaths, invests 

The death-struck hosts, galling the gazer's eye. 

Thus proving, with what potency malign 

Into the filmy organs of the foe 

Diminutive ; it needs must penetrate, 


100 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

But better the prevention than the cure ; 
And for prevention nought so much avails 
As plentiful manure ; for then the seeds 
Burst vigorous from their cells, nor linger long^, 
Blanched and enervated beneath the mould : 
Quickly the blades the vivifying air 
Inhale, assume a deep and deeper green, 
And with such constant lusty growth expand 
The leaf luxuriant, that no rest is found, 
No tranquil nidus for the adhesive eggs, 
Which thus, for ever marred, abortive prove, 

Such is the culture of the verdant crops,, 
That in the wintry months fresh food supply 
To herd and flock, — most grateful interchange 
With strawy sheaf thrown in from time to time, 
Or fragrant armful. 

Hark ! the whetstone rasps 
Along the mower's scythe ; for now's the time 


JUNE, 101 

To reap the grassy mead, — ere yet the bee 
Into the purple clover-flower can shoot 
Her searching tube, — ere yet the playful imp 
Chacing, waist-deep, the restless butterfly, 
Gan from the red flowers suck the honied juice | 
Now every stalk and leaf is full distent 
With richest sap ; nor is the latent strength, 
By which a second growth rivals the first, 
Exhausted by the eJJlorescent stage. 

Though other field- works at the twilight break 
Of day begin, shunning the sultry hours, 
Hay-harvest, first and last, demands the sun. 
Not till his thirsty beam have sipped the dew 
That glistering returns his morning smile, 
The mower's scythe be heard : then equal ranged^ 
With crescent strokes that closely graze the ground^ 
The stooping band extend the ridgy swathes. 
Ah ! spare, thou pitying swain, a ridge-breadth round 
The partridge nest ! so shall no new-come lord-— 


102 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

To ope a vista to some ivied tower— 

Thy cottage raze ; but when the day is done,, 

Still shall the twig-bo wered seat, on which thy sire 

Was wont at even-tide to talk-, invite 

Thy weary limbs ; there peace and health shall bless 

Thy frugal fare, served by the unhired hand, 

That seeks no wages save a parent's smile, 

To dry the swathe, and yet to save the sap, 
Should be your double aim. Some, void of skill, 
Believe, that by long bleaching in the sun 
Their end is gained ; but thus they scorch, not dry, 
The fragrant wreaths. This ancient error shun. 

Soon as the scythes the mid- way field have reached, 
See old and young at distance due succeed ; 
The waning spinstress, and the buxom maid ; 
The boy rejoicing in the important toil, 
And striving, though with yet unequal strength, 
To match the best,— all, with inverted rakes, 


JUN& 103 

Toss the fresh wreath, and ted it lightly round, 
With gleesome hearts, feeling the toil no task. 
The very dogs seem smitten with the joy 
Of this new merriment, this flowery work, 
And, deeming all in sport, run, bark, and frisk, 
Or toss, with buried snout, the tedded flakes. 

Full soon the rake gains on the creeping scythe | 
And now the sun, with westering wheel, begins 
To slope his course, when, half forespent, the band 
Bethink themselves, 'tis time to pause from toil. 
Straight to the hedge-row shade, with willing step, 
Though slow, they wend, — and, seated on the sward 
In peaceful circle, join the gray-haired sire, 
In asking God to bless the daily bread 
He bounteously bestows ! with cheerful hearts 
Their bread they eat, nor other beverage seek 
Than what the milky pail unstinted gives. 
Finished the brief repast, and thanks returned, 
Some sleep the hour away, some talk and jeer, 


104< BRITISH GEORGICS. 

While willing laughter, on the thread-bare jest, 
Bestows the meed of wit ; others, apart, 
Hold whispering converse with the lass they love, 
The younger wights, with busy eye, explore 
The foggage, where, concealed with meikle art, 
The brown bee's cups in rude-formed clusters lie : 
Or, should they find a sable swarm's retreat, 
Deep earthed, the mining spade must lay it bare. 
Nor unresisting do the inmates yield 
Their little state ; forth, at the first alarm, 
They swarming rush, and chacing, in long train> 
The flying foe, deal sharp,- not deadly wounds. 
Rallied, at length, the assailants to the charge, 
With doublets doffed, attack the stinging tribes, 
And leaguering the porch, ruthless beat down 
The issuing hosts, till, by degrees reduced, 
The feeble remnant, 'mid their fated homes, 
Await their hapless doom ; — the insidious mine 
Meanwhile proceeds, and soon (like human states)* 


JUNE. 105 

The little kingdom and its treasures lie 
Prostrate and ruined 'neath the spoiler's hand. 

While thus glides on the mid-day hour, the pause 
Has not been useless ; diligent the sun 
(The time though short) already has prepared 
The scattered verdure for the windrow waves. 
First flat and low, till,, as the day declines, 
Now tossed, now side-long rolled, by many a rake^ 
Accumulating slow, waist high they swell, 
One thing forget not, — that athwart the breeze 
The rows be laid ; for thus all through the heaps, 
Quite loosely piled, the drying influence sifts. 
Some leave them here to imbibe the midnight dews^ 
Or drenching shower, and day by day repeat, 
For three full suns, the same unvaried course, 
Be wiser thou, proportioning the time,, 
And quantity of labour, to the kind 
And richness of the crop : Some grasses need 
Much more of sun and breeze ; the clover kinds? 


106 BRITISH GEQRGICS, 

And chief the red, so succulent, require. 
Unless well mingled with the lighter tribes, 
Much spreading, tossing, rolling to and fro. 

Others again, whate'er the grassy crop. 
If one day's sun they gain, no longer trust 
The fickle sky, but rear the verdant cock 
Of size diminutive : these, with a little sheaf 
Bound near the tops, and by the fingers combed. 
Then circularly spread like bee-hive's thatch, 
They shield from sudden rain and nightly dew. 
So fenced, the little rows, if gently raised 
From time to time, in seven days mere may join 
To rear the swelling tramprick, and defy- 
Both wind and rain. Beware, nor long delay 
To pile the stack, on trees and boughs transverse, 
From damp secured : — see, it surmounts the reach 
Of arms full-stretched ; — then, from below, with forks 
Up-poised, the fragrant heaps are spread, . 


JUNE. 107 

And trampled with much jest and merriment, 
And hurtless falls of blythsome lad and lass. 

To destine all your grassy crop to hay 
Is thriftless husbandry. In summer drouths 
Preserve a portion green for stake and stall % 
For in the pasture-field, the biting flies 
Unceasingly, though lashed away, return, 
And still return, tormenting, to the charge ; 
Till, goaded past endurance, round the field 
The maddened horse scours snorting, while the herd 
Gallop in awkward guise, with tails erect,— 
And, wildly bellowing, spite of hedge or ditch, 
Rush to some neighbouring stream, and, plunging, lave 
Their heaving sides. 

Nor less the fleecy tribes 
Suffer from noon-day heats. Upon thy hills, 
Fair Scotland ! which the goodly forest crowned 
In times of old, a tree, or sheltering bush, 


108 BRITISH GEORGICS* 

Is now but rarely seen,— the mossy breach, 
Or stone, or flood-scooped bank, the only shield 
Where, screened but scantily, the panting sheep 
C#n shun the sweltering beam : hence various ifte 
Assail the harmless race. Nature points out 
The remedy., — a shade ; and what so fit 
For shade as trees : a narrow belt will serve. 
If crescent-formed, to screen a numerous flock. 
Select the spot with skill ; trees love not heights* 
Stunted and slow, upon the stormy brow, 
They'll scarce afford your children's flock a shade- 
Observe where Nature plants ;- — the little haugh, 
The murmuring brooklet's cradle, or the side 
Of grassy slope, just where it joins the plain. 
There plant the bonny birch, the spreading elm 3 
The alder, quick of growth, and early green, 
The broad-leaved plane ; and careful fence the whole. 

Where, Ettrick ! now, thy forest wide outstretched* 
Here towering high, in all its greenwood pride.* 


JUNE. 109 

As swelled the mountain steeps, and there as low 

Sinking into the dale, one sylvan scene, 

Extending far as eye could reach, unbroke 

Save by the river's winding course, or cliff 

Projecting, or sweet sunny glade, where lay, 

In ruminating peace, the fallow deer, 

A grove of antlers, or by airy tower 

That far o'erlocked to guard the green domain, 

"Where, Ettrick, now thy pride ! save in the song 

Of that bold Minstrel, whose loud-clanging strings, 

Struck by the lightning of his ardent soul, 

Awaken echoes that responses made 

To noise of wars recorded in his lay ! 

Where, Cheviot ! now, thy oaken canopy 

Of boughs, beneath whose twilight vault, full-armed^ 

The horseman rode, nor scathed his nodding crest ! 

Where now thine, Torwood ! sacred to the cause 

Of liberty ! where now the tree revered, 

Beneath whose boughs the head of Wallace lay 

That ill-starred eve ; ere Graham at Falkirk fell,? 


110 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Beneath whose boughs the royal tent was stretched 
Of Bruce,, preparing for the glorious day 
Of Bannockburn ! At Banxockburn — what heart 
That boasts one drop of Scottish blood, but feels 
A patriot glow burn thrilling through his frame, 
New-nerve his languid arm, and make him smile 
At, (what in sober mood stirs bodings dark), 
At Gallic thunder threatening Albion's shores ! 
Even yet the ploughman, as with sideward curve 
He passes by the memorable stone 
(Fit pedestal for Freedom's form sublime) 
Wherein was fixed the Scottish standard, feels 
A conscious pride his bosom swell, and grasps 
With firmer hold the smooth-worn shafts. 

To them who on a lovely morn of June % 
At break of day, knelt on the dewy sward, 
While full in view Inchaffray's abbot reared 

* " Monday the 34th of June 1314. at break of day, tk« 
English army moved on to the attack.'* — Hailes. 


JUNE, III 

The sacred host * ; to them who, ere the shut 

Of blood-besprinkled flowers, fell in the cause 

Of Freedom and their Country ! to the men 

Who that day's fight survived,, and saw once more 

Their homes, their children ; — and, when silvery hairs 

Their temples thin besprent, lived to recount, 

On winter nights, the achievements of that day !— • 

To them be ever raised the muses* voice 

In grateful song triumphant ; — for by them 

Was saved that independent state, so long maintained^ 

From which, though in an evil hour resigned, 

Are now derived that liberty, those laws, 

Beneath whose equal rule the swain secure 

* Maurice, abbot of Inchaffray, placing himself on an 
eminence, celebrated mass in sight of the Scottish army. He 
then passed along the front barefooted, bearing a crucifix in 
his hand, and exhorted the Scots, in few and forcible words, 
to combat for their rights and liberty. The Sco-s kneeled 
clown. " They yield" cried Edward ; * see they implore 
mercy." " They do" answered Ingleram de Umphraville, 
M but not ours. On that fad they will be victorious,, or die" 




112 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Now wandering, at the silent gloamin tide^ 
Amid his earing fields, anticipates, 
With secret joy, and thankfulness of heart 
Exuberantly fulL a plenteous year I 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


JULY. 


Resounds the living surface of the ground: 

Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hour, 

To him who muses through the woods at noon, 

Thomson 


ARGUMENT. 

General features of this month — Destroy needs* — Cul- 
tivation of bees — Great vigilance necessary with 
bees at this season — Warm and sheltered situation 
best preventive of distant flights — Directions re- 
specting the apiary — Trees, shrubs, and f towers — 
Honey dew — Prognostics of swarming — Directions 
when they swarm — Removal of bees at close of 
Summer to the moorlands — Diseased hive — Heme* 
dies — Virtue of honey as a medicine for man — Na- 
ture's remedies the most simple — Fever — Cold affu- 
sion — Apostrophe to Dr Currie— Cold-bathing pre* 
ventive of fever — Swimming. 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


JULY. 

JN o more at dewy dawn, or setting sun 3 
The blackbird's song floats mellow down the dale ; 
Mute is the lark, or soars a shorter flight, 
With carol briefly trilled, and soon descends. 
In full luxuriance clothed, of various green, 
The laughing fields and meadows, far and wide. 
Gladden the eye: all-beauteous now 
The face of Nature smiles serenely gay ; 
And even the motley race of weeds enhance 
Her rural charms : Yet let them not be spared ; 
Still as they rise^ uneonquered, let the hoe 


116 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Or ploughshare crush them. In your fields permit 
No wild-flower to expand its teeming bloom i 
In wood and wild; there let them bud and blow 
By haunted streamlet,, where the wandering bee, 
Humming from cup to bell, collects their sweets. 

Though rarely prized by husbandmen, whose bounds 
Embrace a widely spread domain, the bee 
Is not contemned by him, whose narrow means,, 
Upon his ploughgate croft, require the help 
Of every rural art ; nor by the man 
Whose sole possession is his cottage home, 
And garden plat ; nor yet by him who loves 
Now to survey the planets as they roll, 
Now to explore the wondrous insect's ways, 
Adoring, while in both he traces power, 
Almighty as benign » 

This month require^ 
From all who cultivate the frugal race, 


JULY. 117 

A vigilance unceasing, lest unwarned 
They lift too late their lightened hives, and find 
The younger broods have ta en a distant flight. 
If in an evening sky, serene and calm, 
The martins higher than their wonted flight, 
On arrowy pinions, scarcely quivering, soar, 
And make the lofty turret or the spire, 
That far below low'rs in the deepening shade.* 
Seem of its height diminished, — then the air 
Its utmost buoyancy has gained ; and hence 
All things that in the liquid region ply, 
Each bird and insect, float on easy wing : 
On such an eve, w T ho marks the martin's flight, 
Needs not to scan the argent column's rise 
Prophetic, but, from Nature's signs, foresees 
A ruddy morning tinge the dappled cope. 

Oft when, at even-tide, a cluster hangs 
No larger than laburnum's tasseled flower, 
Long ere the morrow's sun has dried the dews, 


118 BRITISH GEORGICS* 

The emigrating tribe is gone past hope ; 
Nor, after anxious search o'er hill and dale,. 
Does e'er the slumberous owner hear again 
Their welcome hum.— 

Or, on a Sabbath morn^ 
Cloudy and calm, with not one sunny gleam 
To lure them forth, I've seen a numerous swaira 
(Whether attracted by the silence deep 
And pause of rural toil, or sudden struck 
By that instinctive impulse, which directs 
More wisely than proud Reason's rules,) rush out 
In myriads, and take wing ; while mingling sounds 
Of distant church-bell, and the jangling pan, 
Essayed in vain to stop the living cloud. 

Such flights to hinder, nought conduces more 
Than warm exposure, sheltered, sunny, low, 
With pebbly rivulet, murmuring near at hand 
O'er stones emerging from its chafing stream.: 


JULY. 119 

Before, but not so near as to o'ershade 

Your buzzing hamlet, let the linden tree 

Sweet foliaged, and laburnum's golden flowers, 

Present the tribe, when meditating flight, 

A tempting seat, a blossoming abode. 

Let all around a labyrinth extend 

Of various shrubs, blooming at various times, 

From the first breath of Spring, till Autumn tinge 

The universal blush with sober brown ; — 

And first the downy-blossomed palm *, the sloe-bush 

dark, 
Whose early flower anticipates the leaf, 
The hawthorn, witness of fond lovers' vows, 
The purple lilac, and the golden broom, 
The rosy brier, and bramble stretching far 
Its prickly arms. Defended by such walls, 
In open plats be seen flowers of all hue, 
And odorous herbs, — sweet rosmarine, 

* A species of the willow* 


120 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

With wild thyme, breathing far its fresh perfume ; 
The early daisy, and the crocus cup ; 
The violet that loves a mossy couch ; 
The pale primrose ; auricula full fraught 
With vernal incense ; lily-beds profuse, 
As if some shaded wreath of Winter's snow 
Had lingered in the chilly lap of Spring ; 
Fair daffodillies, hyacinthine rods 
Enwreathed with azure bells, pinks, marigolds^ 
And every blossom of the later year. 
Who loves the labouring race, fails not to fill 
Each nook around his dwelling-place with flowers, 
Till every breeze that through his lattice plays 
Bear fragrance, loading with delight the sense ; 
Even round his windows carefully he trains 
Lithe honey-suckles, vocal with the hum 
Of the loved tribes, which, on a summer's day, 
While screened he sits within the quivering shade- 
Lull every care, and charm his waking dream. 


JULY. J21 

But none of all the flowery race affords 
Supplies so plentiful of honey lymph, 
As, on a misty morning, calm, serene, 
Are seen, though rarely, pendent from the spikes 
Of drooping speargrass ; then all other herbs, 
Each gaudy chaliced bloom, that in the sun 
Twinkles with sterile dew, deserted hangs ; 
And busily the humming labourers ply 
Their easy task, returning loaded soon 
In oft-repeated journies to the hive. 

Than days preceded by these honied morns, 
No time is more propitious for the flight 
Of overflowing swarms. Soon as the sun 
Has dried the dew, the light precursors Hy, 
Like warping midges on a summer's eve, 
In reeling dance before the crowded porch. 
Others along the outside of the hive 
Run hurriedly, then stopping, ply their wings* 
The inner legions, pouring from the gate, 


122 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Increase the pendant cluster, till at once, 

Streaming, it mounts in air, but soon alights 

Upon some neighbouring spray, which blackened bends 

Beneath the load. Haste, spread the sheet, and lay 

Two rods of mountain-ash along, to keep 

An opening all around the hive when set. 

Next cut the loaded branch, nor hesitate, 

Though, tempting, through the heaving bunch peep 

forth 

The purpling tint of plumbs full-formed, or ripe 

The luscious cherry plead like beauty's lip : 

Pomona's self her pruning hook would urge, 

And save the living fruit : then spare not thou 

The knife ; yet use it gently ; gently bear 

The buzzing branch, and gently lay it down 

Between the rowan * rods ; then o'er it place 

Slowly the hive, and softly spread o'er all 

Another sheet : quick to the transverse spokes 

The myriad tribes will mount, and peaceful fill 
i 

* Mountain ash. 


JULY. 123 

Their new abode. There let them rest, 

Until the sultry hours begin to cool. 

Upon a level board then place the hive, 

And round the juncture close each crevice up 

With well-wrought clay : the noxious reptile race 

Will else intrude. Sometimes through narrowest chink 

The crawling snail, insinuating, drags 

His slimy length, and riots on the comb. 

Even here resources in themselves, devised,. 

Wisely devised, to meet the dire event, 

Are by the ever-wondrous race displayed. 

To death they first, with many a sting, devote 

The unwelcome guest ; and then the monstrous mass, 

Which else, corrupting, through the commonwealth 

Would spread contagion, closely they entomb 

In catacomb, as in his pristine shell. 

When Summer's blow of flowers begins to fade. 
Some to the moorlands bear their hives, to cull 
The treasures of the heathbell ; simple flower ! 


124? BRITISH GE0RG1CS. 

That still extends its purple tint as far 
As eye can reach, round many an upland farm : 
There still, of genuine breed, the colly * meets, 
Barking shrill-toned, the stranger rarely seen ; 
While near some rushy ricks of meadow hay 
The startled horse stands gazing, then around 
His tether-length of twisted hair full stretched, 
He snorting scours : a toothless harrow serves 
For garden gate, — where, duly ranged, the hives 
Stand covered till the evening shades descend. 
But when the sun-beams glisten on the dew, 
Forth fly the stranger tribes, and far and near 
Spread o'er the purple moor, cheering the task 
Of him who busy digs his winter fuel ; 
For 'mid these wilds no sound gives sign of life 
Save hum of bee, or grasshoppers hoarse chirp ; 
Or when the heath-fowl strikes her distant call ; 
Or plovers, lighting on the half-buried tree, 
Scream their dire dirge where once the linnet sung. 

* Shepherd's, do£v 


JULY, 12.5 

If e'er disease assail the humming race *, 
(For they., no more than man,, escape disease), 
Its first approaches watch : nor are the signs 
Ambiguous of their state : their colour fades ; 
A haggard leanness in their visage speaks ; 
The bodies then, bereft of life, are borne 
From out the silent porch, and frequent flies 
The winged funeral : deep, meanwhile, within, 
A murmur faint, and long drawn out, is heard, 
Like south winds moaning through a grove of pines. 
Here, let me urge to burn strong-scented herbs, 
Neglecting not the helpless commonwealth 
To aid with honied reeds, pushed gently in ; 
And with the offered food fear not to mix 
Oak-apple juice, dried roses, and wild thyme, 
With centaury, exhaling powerful fumes. 
In meadows grows a flower, by husbandmen 
Called starwort ; easily it may be known, 
For, springing from a single root, it spreads 

* See Virgil's 4th Gecrgic. 


126 BRITISH GEGIiGICS. 

A foliage affluent, golden-hued itself, 

While from the leaves of darkest violet, 

An under-tint of lighter purple shines : 

Harsh to the taste, it wrings the shepherd's mouth : 

Its root, in wine infused, affords at once 

The hapless sufferers medicine and food. 

To man himself, the honey cell is found, 
In various ills, a virtue to possess 
Surpassing far the medicated cup- 
Simple the remedies which Nature gives ! 
What cure so simple, and so powerful too, 
As is the watery element, when fierce 
Through every vein the sultry season rolls 
A fev'rous tide, and fell Delirium nails, 
Upon the throbbing head, his glowing crown. 
O'er the parch' d skin the cold affusion flows 
Again, and yet again, in copious stream ; 
Till by degrees, more calmly, slowly, leaps 
The restless pulse ; delicious coolness glides 


SULY. 127 

Through all the frame ; and, as when thunder-clouds 
Have rolled away, and forky fires have ceased 
To vex the welkin, forth the sun again 
Looks down complacently on wood and stream ; 
Illumined by his smile, the drooping flowers, 
The trees, rejoice; — so from the eye, obscured 
Erewhile, the renovated soul beams forth 
Intelligence on child and watching friend, 
Raising their hands in silent thanks to God ! 

And did the Sage, whose powerful genius shed 
A flood of light, where only glimmering rays 
Erewhile confounded, not illumed, the path 
Of science, — did that man, the orphan's friend, 
Die unrewarded ! No ; a meed was his, 
Most grateful to his heart, a meed that soothed 
His dying hour, — the sweet solacing thought, 
That, though no more beside the couch of pain 
His accents wafted healing on their wings, 
His silent page, amid Disease's storm, 


12S BRITISH GEORGICS* 

Was still the guiding chart to Safety's shore i 
O what a balm to his benignant soul, 
When looking forward to the parting hour, 
To think that then, perhaps, some weeping groupe 
Hailed, through his means, a parent snatched from 
death ! 

Yet not alone, to quench the burning pest, 
Its wondrous power the gelid lymph exerts ; 
Oft it extinguishes the kindling spark ; 
And when a youthful band, buoyant with joy,. 
Hie to the river side, they little ween, 
That safety thus with pleasure is combined. 
Come, then, ye jovial swains ! and in the shade, 
Ere sultry noon, throw off your cumb'rous garb : 
The pool, relucent to its pebbly bed, 
With here and there a slowly-sailing trout, 
Invites the throbbing, half-reluctant breast, 
To plunge : — the dash re-echoes from the rocks, 
And smooth, in sinuous course, the swimmer winds ; 


JULY. 129 

xSow, with extended arms, rowing his way, 
And now, floating with sunward face, outstretched, 
Till, blinded by the dazzling beam, he turns, 
Then to the bottom dives, emerging soon 
With stone, as trophy, in his waving hand. 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


AUGUST. 


When corn-rigs wave yellow, and blue heather hells 
Bloom bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells. 

Ramsay, 


ARGUMENT. 

Characteristics of the month — Leveret — Partridge s 
and her brood — Sportsman reconnoitring the moor 
with dogs, anticipating the pleasures of the shooting 
seasoji — Highland reapers journeying to the Low-* 
lands-— Reapers assembled to be hired — Address to 
Scotland as still the country of freedom — A word 
of advice to Statesmen — Wheat harvest — Danger 
from foods on riversides — Prognostics of heavy 
rain — River overflowing its banks — Land improved 
by the overflowing of rivers — Mud in creeks of 
stream — Top-dressing with composts of alluvial 
mud — Different magazines of manure supplied by 
nature — LinUsteeping destructive to fish — Fisheries 

-—Herring fishing Evening — —Village herd—* 

Sportsman returning from moorlands — Transition 
from that peaceful warfare to the situation of Spain^ 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


AUGUST. 


Intense the viewless flood of heat descends 
On hill, and dale, and wood, and tangled brake, 
Where, to the chirping grasshopper, the broom, 
With crackling pod, responds ; the fields embrowned 3 
ftegin to rustle in the autumn breeze, 
While from the waving shelter, bolder grown, 
The lev'ret, at the misty hour of morn, 
Forth venturing, limps to nip the dewy grass. 
The partridge, too, and her light-footed brood, 
As yet half-fledged, now haunt the corn-field skirt* 


134 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Or on new-weeded turnip fields are spied, 
Bunning, in lengthened files, between the drills. 

Now to the heath, ere yet the wished-for mora, 
That licenses the game of death, arrive, 
The sportsman hies to mark the moor-hen's haunt. 
Boisterous with joy, his dogs bark, jump, and howl, 
And running out before, in frolic chace, 
Return as fast, marring his stumbling steps. 
But when they reach the purple waste, afar, 
With stooping heads, they roam, oft leaping up, 
With backward look, to mark their master's mien. 
He, with keen eye, prowling, surveys the ground, 
And haply finds the game his dogs have missed. 
Yes, with relentless eye he sees the dam, 
Basking by some old cairn, amid her brood, 
Or spreading o'er their harmless heads her wings j 
He sees, unmoved by all a mother's cares, 
And, as they rise, he counts his destined prey,. 


AUGUST. 135 

Noting, with forward-darting look, the spot, 
Where their yet feeble wings they panting rest. 

Oft, at this season, faintly meets the ear 
The song of harvest bands, that plod their way 
From dark Lochaber, or the distant isles, 
Journeying for weeks to gain a month of toil t 
Sweet is the falling of the single voice, 
And sweet the joining of the choral swell, 
Without a pause ta'en up by old and young, 
Alternating, in wildly-measured strain. 
Thus they, 'mid clouds of nying dust, beguile, 
With songs of ancient times,, their tedious way. 

At city gate, or market-place, now groupes 
Of motley aspect wait a master's call. 
The grey-haired man, leaning upon his staff, 
Is there ; the stripling, and the sun-burnt maid ; 
The sallow artizan, who quits his tools, 
To breathe awhile among the pleasant fields;, 


156 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

And earn at once health and his daily bread. 
No scowling tyrant there goes round, and round, 
Viewing the human merchandize with look 
That fiends in vain would match ; no dread is there 
Of separation ; parents, children, friends, 
With one consent, take or reject the meed ; 
Place, time, and master, all are in their choice, 

Scotland, « with all thy faults, I love thee still {" 
For freedom here still on the poor man smiles, 
Sweetens his crust, and his hard pillow smoothes. 
O ye, who guide the state, and mould the laws, 
Beware lest, with your imposts overstrained, 
Beware lest thus ye crush that noble spirit, 
Which lives by equal laws, with them expires.— 
Unequal burdens make the o'erburdened slaves ; 
And, making slaves, they make men cowards too. 

But hence this joyless theme, and let me seek 
The fields once more ;— >hark ! at yon cottage door 


AUGUST. 137 

The sickle harsh upon the grindstone grates, 
Which, merrily, most uncouth music makes, 
Drowning the song of him who whirls it round. 

And now it oft befals, when farmers' hopes 
Are all but realized, a mildew creeps 
Along the wheaten ridge, blighting the ears. 
Haste, then, the sickle urge, nor be deterred 
Though, in some spots, a greenish tint pronounce 
The ears unripe : the vegetating stage 
Ere now is past ; and should no canker shoot 
Its poison through the plant, the grain will proves 
Though seeming immature, a healthy crop. 
But, if allowed to stand, the subtle pest 
Pervades stalk, husk, and grain, blasting the whole* 
And even when your wheaten field betrays 
No sickly hue, but gives a lusty rustle, 
When waving in the wind, wait not in hope 
That, standing, it will gain in bulk and weight : 
Avail yourself betimes of sky serene, 


138 BRITISH GEORGICS'. 

And with the sun the reapers lead afield. 

How pleasant to the husbandman the sight 

Of gleaming sickles, and of swelling sheaves ! 

How joyfully he twists the rustling band, 

And, pressing with his knee, binds up the sheaf ! 

While merrily the jest and taunt go round, 

Running, like scattered fire, along the line. 

And still the master's joke should, mingling, cheejr 

The stooping row, and make their labour light. 

Beware, ye swains ! whose level fields extend 
Along; a river-side, and build vour sheaves 
Beyond the utmost verge of highest floods. 
Or, if you trust them on the perilous spot, 
Watch carefully the signs foreboding change. 

No sign of gathering storm, both wind and rai?v 
Is surer than the sea-fowl's inland flight. 
For though the conflict of the winds and waves 
Be distant far, a sympathetic heave 


AUGUST. 139 

Is felt along the tranquil seeming bays, 
Warning the hovering flocks of surges loud 
That soon will lash the shore, and render vain 
The piercing sight, which, in a peaceful sea, 
Discerns, high on the wing, the finny prey : 
But while their briny harvest thus is marred. 
On shore the coming deluge draws the race 
Of reptiles from their haunts, in mead and grove 
Concealed, — the puffing frog, the horned snail. 
And all the species of the slimy tribes, 
Repast profusely spread. 

He who contemns 
These auguries, nor timely moves his. shocks 
To safer ground, will rue when, with the dawn 
Awaking, loud the river's roar he hears : 
To doubt, in vain he strives ; his eye confirms 
The tidings of his ear, and rapid down 
The foamy current he beholds his sheaves 


HO BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Sweeping along, while, 'mid the havoc, bleats 
The floating lamb, with meek unconscious face* 

Some rivers, by the mountain-torrents fed, 
Rush down, with swell so sudden and so high, 
That all her fleetness cannot save the hare, 
Unless (as erst befel in Clyde's fair dale) 
She gain some passing rick : there close she squats, 
Now in the middle current shot along 
In swift career, now near the eddying side 
Whirling amazed, while from the dizzy shore 
Some shepherd's dog discerns the floating prize, 
And, barking, scours along, then stops, but fears 
To venture in ; onward meanwhile she sails, 
Till, through the broadened vale, the stream expand 
In gentler course, and gliding past the bank, 
Restore her, fearful, to the fields again. 

Floods, ruinous to husbandmen, enrich 
The land itself: See how the pendent sprays 


AUGUST. HI 

That in the flood were dipt, are soiled, and judge 
How richly fraught with vegetable food 
The stream subsides upon the deluged plain, 

This rich deposit oft unheeded lies 
In little creeks, and windings of the stream,: 
Accumulated deep ; whence, if removed 
To swell the compost pile, another store, 
Soon as another flood recedes, your care rewards, 
But if your bank, from Nature, has received 
No flexure, no recess, to intercept 
The watery wealth, boldly the shore indent 
With little bays, narrow and slanting up, 
That past each entrance, smooth the current's force 
May harmlessly, with easy flow, glide by. 
A verdure deep, with many a daisy gemmed, 
In early spring, delights the eye of him 
Whose compost heaps, rich with alluvial mud^ 
O'erspread his pasture fields ; for thus the roots 
At once are shielded from the wintry frosts, 


142 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

And fed with food, like that whi :h, after showers 
Of softest fall, or on a dewy morn, 
Cloudy and still, is seen in earthy coils 
Vermicular, appearing through the sward. 
Thus human art still most successful proves, 
When following nature with unconscious step. 

Full many are the stores of rich manure 
That lie neglected. Every sluggish ditch 
And stagnant puddle, during summer heats^ 
Is bottomed with a fertilizing layer. 
One sign unerring of a magazine, 
On which the power putrescent has produced 
Its full effect, is that small insect scum, 
Minute and sable as the explosive grain, 
Withal so light, that, by the softest breath 
Of Autumn breeze, 'tis driven to and fro. 
Would husbandmen look round with searching eye,- 
And use those meliorating means which lie 
Oft unsuspected, or, if known, despised, 


AUGUST. 143 

More rarely would they time and gold expend 
For the vile sweepings of the noisome town. 

The flaxen crop, which now 'tis time to pull, 
Steeped in some neighbouring pond, converts 
The simple water into strong manure. 
Yet many, heedless, bear to far-off moors 
The sheaves diminutive, and sink them deep 
In sable pits, from whence was scooped the peat i 
Or wantonly, in running brooks, immerge 
This poison fatal to the scaly tribes. 
Alas ! below the tainted pool behold 
The frequent upturned-side gleam in the sun. 

Britannia, to thy richest treasures blind, 
Treasures that teem in river, firth, and sea,— 
Why sleep thy laws, and why that harvest blight 
"Which, without seed or toil, is gained ? Extend 
Protection to thy hardy mountaineers, 


144< BRITISH GEOHGICS. 

And,, since extruded from their native wilds, 
Permit them free possession of the waves. 

How sweet, o'er Scotia's hill-encircled seas, 
The evening sun-beam, slanting down the glens, 
Illumes the scene where now the busy oars 
Ply to the chaunted strain, — soft, soothing, wild,— 
Of days of other years, — perhaps a song, 
Or cadence of some vocal ruin, spared 
By ruthless Time, relenting to destroy 
These lays with which the voice of Cona lulled 
The weary wave that slumbered on the shore ! 
But now, with bustling noise, from every stern 
Run out the folded nets, and, in the brine 
Plunging, leave far behind a foamy track. 

In lowland dales, at this bland hour of eve, 
The village herd slow from the common wends 
Each to her well-known stall, while loud the horn 
Blows many a needless bla^t; and homeward shots 


Of sated sportsmen, at the moorland skirts, 
Returning weary, break the placid hush. 
O peaceful war ! alas, in other lands, 
The sylvan war is silent. Loud the roar 
Of thundering ordnance echoes 'mid the rocks 
Of proud Iberia, throned amid the blaze 
Of pealing tubes ; her hands distained- 
With other vintage than the wine-press yields ; 
Her crown with thistles, roses, shamrocks, wreathed ; 
And at her feet the Gallic lilies torn, 
Deep-blushing with the blood of murdered babes. 
Around her see the shattered columns form, 
While Freedom's standard, waving in her grasp, 
Soars like an eag-Ie o'er the storm-fraught clouds. 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


SEPTEMBER. 


Thy hounty shines in Autumn unconfned 9 
And spreads a common feast for all thai lives... 

Thomson. 


ARGUMENT.. 

Reaping of oats — Partridge-shooting — Equinoctial 
winds — Rains more injurious to harvest — Hint at 
a mode of drying corn in the field — 'Reaping by 
moonlight — Highland reapers, on Sabbath, reading 
Gaelic Bible — Apostrophe on the translation of the 
Bible into the Gaelic language — Leading of corn 
— -Stack-building — Tranquillity and silence of the 
fields after harvest — Kirn, or harvest-home — High* 
land reapers returning, hearing their language 
spoken in their native glen — Pleasure of hearing 
the Scottish language first spoken on re-crossing the 
Border— Regret on prospect of leaving Scotland, 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


SEPTEMBER. 


C/LEAR is the sky, and temperate the air, 
That, scarcely stirring, wafts, with gentlest breathy 
The gossamer light glittering in the sun. 
And now, the wheat and barley harvest o'er, 
Blythsome the reapers to the lighter work 
Of oaten-field repair, and gaily stoop, 
Grasping the lusty handfuls, while they draw- 
Close to the ground, the sickle, saving thus 
The useful straw for fodder or for lair. 
Severe, yet cheerful, both to old and young, 
This stooping labour ; frequently they paus% 


150 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

For reason slight, or none ; sometimes to gaze 
Upon the passing coach, that, 'neath a load 
Enormous, seems to stagger as it rolls, 
Amid a cloud of dust ; sometimes to taunt 
The traveller on foot who plods his way, 
And, failing in the attempted repartee, 
Quickens his pace to shun the vollied shower 
Of rustic wit ; or by the fowler's gun 
Startled, while o'er the neighbouring hedge 
The wounded partridge flies, and at their feet 
Falls, vainly fluttering, followed fast by dog 
And master. Ruthless man ! how canst thou see, 
As, lifting that poor bird, it in thy face 
Looks up — how canst thou see that piteous look, 
That blood-drop trickling down its panting breast^ 
Nor feel compunction for the barbarous deed ! 

Now come the equinoctial blasts, that lay 
Level the sheaves. This danger to avoid, 
Look at the forest's topmost twigs, or larch,. 


SEPTEMBER. 151 

That ever shuns the most prevailing wind, 
And let your shocks, placed lengthwise to the storm^ 
Present their sloping ends ; else, if they stand 
Athwart the sweeping tempest's line, overthrown, 
They frequent lie drenched in a furrow pool. 

But more destructive to yon new-piled sheaves. 
Are rains, which, unaccompanied with wind, 
Come drizzling down in ceaseless, soaking fall. 
Singly the sheaves must then be placed upright t- 
Yet even this remedy oft fruitless proves ; 
For nightly gusts at intervals will blow, 
And, with the morning sun, you find your work 
Laid prostrate. 

Strange that implements abound. 
In every process of the farmer's art, . 
Save this: and yet, without much pains or cost, 
Means sure there are, by which, in shorter space 
Than now required, if but the rain remit,. 


152 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

The dripping crop may thoroughly be dried, 

A row of forked stakes draw cross the field, 

With spars from cleft to cleft laid all along,— - 

On these your sheaves, bound near the tops, suspend ; 

Thus, while descends the rain, fast trickling off 

Each dangling sheaf, the capillary bunch, 

Free of the plashy ground, no moisture draws. 

In rainy harvests, when the day is dimmed 
With one continued shower, sometimes the night 
Clears up, and, through the parting clouds, the moon 
Shoots forth, o'er tower and tree, a silvery beam. 
Such interval the prudent husbandman 
Will eager seize, and by the pallid light, 
Though oft obscured by slowly passing clouds, 
Will urge the reaping task, nor will desist, 
Though on the eve before the hallowed mom, 
The brightening change begin ; at such a time, 
No law of God forbids the needful toil 
To be protracted, till the fading orb,, 


SEPTEMBER. 153 

And morning's bird, proclaim the day-spring nigh* 

Then let your labour cease, and let not man 

Determine rashly when to disregard 

That heavenly precept, merciful, benign, 

Keep holy to the Lord the seventh day. 

On this blest day the weary reaper rests 

In thankfulness of heart ; see far retired, 

Behind a shadowing shock, yon little groupe 

Of strangers on the ground, and in their hands., 

In tongue unknown in lowland plain, the Word 

Of Life * ! O grand emprize ! O generous boon ! 

That little book to Scotia's farthest isles, 

In each low cottage, comfort speaks, and peace : 

Even to the hapless exile, as he lifts 

His eldest born, and, weeping, bids him take 

A last look of the fast-receding shore, 

It consolation speaks, pointing his view 

To that blest country whence they'll ne'er depart ! 

* Tke translation of the Bible into the Gaelic language, 


154? BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Soon as, by drying power of sun and wind, 
Your crop is ready for the stack or barn, 
One hour delay not ; every other work 
Defer, and, cheery, o'er the ridges drive 
The high-piled wains ; then back, with quickened pace, 
Return, and lighter load of smiling elves, 
Whose purple cheeks the bramble vintage dyes : 
Haste, quick reload, and back, and back again, 
The journey short repeat, till all your fields 
Are to the stubble cleared, and gradual rise 
The cheerful pyramids. 

On transverse boughs 
Construct them with due care, for thus you guard 
'Gainst eartlry damps, and thus the pilfering mouse 
More rarely will intrude, than when your sheaves 
Are laid in contact with the burrowed soil, 
Against this evil let the screeching owl, 
A sacred bird be held ; protect her nest, 
Whether in neighbouring crag, within the reach 


SEPTEMBER. 155 

Of venturous boy, it hang, or in the rent 
Of some old echoing tower, where her sad plaint 
The live-long night she moans, save when she skims,, 
Prowling, along the ground, or, through your barn, 
Her nightly rounds performs ; unwelcome guest ! 
Whose meteor-eyes shoot horror through the dark, 
And numb the tiny revellers with dread. 

Of forms the circular is most approved, 
As offering, in proportion to its bulk, 
The smallest surface to the storm's assault. 
To turn the driving rain, the outer sheaves, 
With bottoms lower than the rustling tops, 
Should sloping lie. When to the crowning sheaf 
Arrived, distrust the sky; the thatch lay on, 
And bind with strawy coils. O pleasant sight ! 
These lozenzed ropes that, at the tapering top, 
End in a wisp-wound pinnacle, a gladsome perch, 
On which already sits poor Robin, proud, 
And sweetly sings a «song, to Harvest Home ! 


156 BRITISH GEORGICS* 

The fields are swept, a tranquil silence reigns, 
And pause of rural labour, far and near. 
Deep is the morning's hush ; from grange to grange 
Responsive cock-crows, in the distance heard 
Distinct as if at hand, soothe the pleased ear : 
And oft, at intervals, the flail, remote, 
Sends faintly through the air its deafened sound, 

Bright now the shortening day, and blythe its close, 
When to the kirn *, the neighbours, old and young, 
Come dropping in to share the well-earned feast. 
The smith aside his ponderous sledge has thrown, 
Raked up his fire, and cooled the hissing brand : 
His sluice the miller shuts ; and from the barn 
The threshers hie, to don their Sunday coats. 
Simply adorned, with ribbons, blue and pink, 
Bound round their braided hair, the lasses trip 
To grace the feast, which now is smoaking ranged 
On tables of all shape, and size, and height, 

* Harvcsuhome. 


SEPTEMBER. 157 

Joined awkwardly, yet to the crowded guests 

A seemly joyous show, all loaded well : 

But chief, at the board-head, the haggis round 

Attracts all eyes, and even the goodman's grace 

Prunes of its wonted length. With eager knife, 

The quivering globe he then prepares to broach ; 

While for her gown some ancient matron quakes^ 

Her gown of silken woof, all figured thick 

With roses white, far larger than the life, 

On azure ground,- — her grannam's wedding garb, 

Old as that year w T hen SherifFmuir was fought. 

Old tales are told, and well-known jests abound, 

Which laughter meets half way as ancient friends, 

Nor, like the worldling, spurns because thread-bare* 

W T hen ended the repast, and board and bench 
Vanish like thought, by many hands removed, 
Up strikes the fiddle; quick upon the floor 
The youths lead out the half-reluctant maids, 
Bashful at first, and darning through the reels 


158 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

With timid steps, till, by the music cheered, 
With free and airy step, they bound along, 
Then deftly wheel, and to their partners face, 
Turning this side, now that, with varying step. 
Sometimes two ancient couples o'er the floor, 
Skim through a reel, and think of youthful years. 

Meanwhile the frothing bickers *, soon as filled, 
Are drained, and to the gauntrees t oft return, 
Where gossips sit, unmindful of the dance. 
Salubrious beverage ! Were thy sterling worth 
But duly prized, no more the alembic vast 
Would, like some dire volcano, vomit forth 
Its floods of liquid fire, and far and wide 
Lay waste the land ; no more the fruitful boon 
Of twice ten shrievedoms, into poison turned, 
Would taint the very life-blood of the poor, 
Shrivelling their heart-strings like a burning scroll. 

* Beakers. 

f Wooden frames on which beer casks are set,— Johnsok, 


SEPTEMBER. 159 

As merrily, in many a lowland vale, 
These annual revels fill, with simple glee, 
The husbandman, and cottar, man and child j— 
Far on their homeward way, the Highland bands 
Approach the mountain range, the bound sublime 
Of Scotia's beauteous plains, while gleams of joy, 
Not tearless, tint each face : As when the clouds, 
That lowr along those steeps, slowly ascend, 
And whiten, as they upward flit, in flakes 
Still thin and thinner spreading, till, at last, 
Each lofty summit gleams, each torrent-fall 
Reflects the radiance of the setting sun. 
And now, upon the way-worn traveller's ear, 
The much-loved language, in his native glen, 
Seems music sweet : — what joy ! scarce more he feels 
When, in the lowly thatch his sickle hung, 
He clasps his children to his throbbing heart. 

How pleasant came thy rushing, silver Tweed ! 
Upon my ear, when, after roaming long 


160 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

In southern plains, I've reached thy lovely bank f 
How bright, renowned Sark ! thy little stream, 
Like ray of columned light chacing a shower, 
Would cross my homeward path ; how sweet the sound, 
When I, to hear the Doric tongue's reply, 
Would ask thy well-known name ! 

And must I leave^ 
Dear land, thy bonny braes, thy dales, 
Each haunted by its wizard stream, o'erhung 
With all the varied charms of bush and tree ; . 
Thy towering hills, the lineaments sublime, 
Unchanged, of Nature's face, which wont to fill 
The eye of Wallace, as he, musing, planned 
The grand emprize of setting Scotland free ! 
And must I leave the friends of youthful years^ 
And mould my heart anew, to take the stamp 
Of foreign friendships, in a foreign land, 
And learn to love the music of strange tongues !■— > 
Yes^ I may love the music of strange tongues, 


SEPTEMBER. 161 

And mould my heart anew, to take the stamp 

Of foreign friendships, in a foreign land : — 

But, to my parched mouth's roof cleave this tongue^ 

My fancy fade into the yellow leaf, 

And this oft-pausing heart forget to throb, 

If, Scotland ! thee and thine I e'er forget* 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


OCTOBER. 


"Twas when the stachs get on their winter hap. 
And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap ; 
Potatoe bings are snugged upfrae shaith 
Of coming Winter s biting frosty breath. 

Burns, 


ARGUMENT. 

Appearance of this month — Prognostic of early frost 
— Turning up potatoes with the plough — Best mode 
of storing them — Wheat sowing — Steeping of seed 
— Tendency to disease in man and animals at this 
season — Defects in horses now most easily seen—~ 
Hints for choosing a work-horse — Hints for break- 
ing young horses — Season for planting — Error of 
planting firs by way of nurses to other species of 
trees — Woods of pine — Their deformity — Misap- 
plication of ground to fir plantations, where deci- 
duous trees would thrive — The different soils and 
situations most suitable to the different species of 
trees — Various tints of different trees during this 
month— Nutting— Haltoveen* 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


OCTOBER, 


JT air shines the sun, but with a meekened smile 

Regretful, on the variegated woods 

And glittering streams, where floats the hazel spray 3 

The yellow leaf, or rowan's ruby bunch. 

Hushed are the groves ; each woodland pipe is mute, 

Save when the redbreast mourns the falling leaf. 

How plaintively, in interrupted trills, 

He sings the dirge of the departing year ! 

Of various plume and chirp, the flocking birds 

Alight on hedge or bush, where, late concealed,, 

Their ne*ts now hang apparent to the view* 


166 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

If, 'mid the tassels of the leafless ash, 
A fieldfare flock alight, for early frosts 
Prepare, and timely save the precious root, 
Before the penetrating power has reached 
The unseen stores. If, planted in fair rows, 
They marshalled grew, the plough will best perform- 
The reaping task : amid the tumbling soil,. 
The vegetable mine, exposed to. view, 
The gatherers' basket fills. 

Some, to secure 
From possibility of frost's access, 
Dig pits, and there throw in the gathered crop ;~ 
A mode unwise ; for thus, if water gain 
Admittance to the store, there it collects, 
And to itself assimilates the whole. 
Exclusion of the atmosphere is gained, 
As well by heaping earth above the roots, 
As by interring them. Chuse, then, a spot 
The driest of the field,, and. on the surface pite 


OCTOBER. 167 

A heap pyramidal, bedded on straw. 

Let not the bulk be great, lest pressure bruise 

The under-layers ; and do not grudge the toil 

Of subdivision into many heaps. 

In thickness let the covering cone be more 

Than what the strict necessity requires, 

And loosely laid, save at the surface, smooth 

And flattened down.. 

How ceaseless is the round: 
Of rural labour ! Soon as on the field 
The withered haulms and suckers crackling blaze, 
And, ; with their far-extending volumes, load 
The wings of Autumn's latest lingering breeze, 
The wheaten seed-time all your care demands : 
Delay not, then, but watchful seize the tide % 
That, ere begins the frost's severer sway, 
Hostile to vegetation's earliest stage, 

* Time— new seldom used in that sense, except in composl* 
tion with other words, as XMpntidgm 


168 BRITISH GEOKGICS. 

The fibres may have time, shooting around, 
To penetrate, and fasten in the soil. 

In briny pickle strong, some drench the grain. 
And from the surface scum the worthless part. 
When thus prepared, with lusty even growth 
The embryons sprout ; and, while all nature droops,, 
The bladed ridges, robed in tender green, 
Revive the heart with presages of Spring. 

While still the ambiguous season, unconfirmed* 
Retains some summer signs, yet more displays 
Of Winter's near approach, man, bird, and beast, 
Begin to droop, as if the waning year 
Some strange malignant influence had dispensed. 
Chief in the horse, each weakness, hurt, or flaw, 
Which genial summer food, and genial warmth, 
Will oft conceal, appears, nor can elude 
Even eyes unskilled. Now is the buyer's time 
To seek the crowded fair. A slow survey 


OCTOBER. 169 

First take of all the rows : examine well, 

In his quiescent state, the horse that hits 

Your roaming eye : mark if one foot he points, 

Unfailing sign of lameness : mark his eyes, 

If slumberous or alert : till well surveyed, 

Forbear your hands, for, handling, you arouse 

The sluggish into spirit not their own. 

Of signs of strength, the least deceitful are, 

A neck of muscle, which, when sideward turned, 

Seems like a cable coil of some great ship, 

And under it a breast jutting and broad, 

Knurled like the trunk of ancient oak or elm ; 

Short pastern joints ; full hoofs, and deep withal 

Of sable hue ; a waist compact and round ; 

Round haunch ; high shoulder ; head not large, 

With eyes full-orbed. For temper watch his head, 

And, if he greet your gently-stroking hand 

With ears laid backward, and projecting snout, 

Proceed elsewhere, and make another choice. 


170 BRITISH GEOKGICS. 

If on a horse untrained to load or draught 
Your choice should fall, — by lenient, soothing meansy 
Tame, not subdue, his spirit to the yoke. 
At first, a. lightly-loaded sack, to mill 
Or market, let him bear, and often stroke 
His trembling neck, and cheer him with your voice. 
Let not the lash, or stern command, alarm 
His startled ear ; but gently lead him on.— 
O think how short the time, since, joyous free, 
He roamed the mead, or, by his mother's side, 
Attended plough or harrow, scampering gay ; 
And think how soon his years of youth and strength 
Will fly, and leave him, to that wretched doom 
Which ever terminates the horse's life, — 
Toil more and more severe, as age, decay, 
Disease, unnerve his limbs, till, sinking faint 
Upon the road, the brutal stroke resounds. 

When,, on the rustling pathway of the grove, 
Falling from branch to branch, the frequent leaf 


OCTOBER. 171 

Gently alights, and whispers as it falls, 

How short, how fleeting, is the life of man ! 

Then is the planting season ; then the sap 

Has ceased to circulate ; and while the power 

Of vegetation slumbering lies, the change 

From the warm fostering spot, where first the plant 

Put forth its leaf, remains unfelt, till Spring, 

By slow degrees, awake the vital spark, 

And, with a whispering zephyr, gently breathe 

O'er swelling bud and slowly-spreading leaf,. 

A sweet oblivion of its infant couch > 

Some mingle, with the fair leaf-bearing trees,. 
The bristled piny tribes ; and, by a word 
Misled, believe that thus they nurse the plants.. 
But mark the progress : — -rapid is the growth. 
Of all the race of pines ; soon they o'ertop, 
O'erspread, and, like some nurses, overlay,. 
And choak their tender charge ; or, if betimes 
They're thinned p ,still with their taller growth they shade 


172 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

From light and heat, the lower-spreading kinds ; 
And thus, surrounded by a sable ring 
Of firs, as in a pit, lurks the poor oak^ 
Beholding but the zenith of the sky. 
What tree ere throve doomed to perpetual shade f 
Is warmth superfluous to the youngling plant ? 
Does not the genial sunbeam of the Spring 
Gladden, with kindly influence, bud and spray ?— 
To break the blast, not to exclude the air, 
And light, and heat, be that your aim, an end 
That's best attained by other obvious means 
Than mingling pines as nurses to your groves. 
Draw them in rows along the bounding line ; 
And, in proportion to the planted space, 
And different degrees of slope and height. 
Let other piny rows athwart be drawn. 

Not satisfied with using firs to screen 
The leafy tribes, improvers some there are # 
Enamoured of deformity and gloom, 


OCTOBER. 173 

Who strangely deem they beautify the land 

By planting woods of pine, or sable belts, 

Like funeral processions, long drawn out. 

But not the eye alone these woeful groves 

Offend; no cheerful rustle, like the trees 

With smiling foliage clothed, give they ; 

A rushing sound moans through their waving boughs^ 

Grateful to him alone whose sorrow is past hope. 

Nor is it only on the barren moor, 
Or mountain bleak, these northern hordes intrude ; 
No, they usurp the warm and sheltered glen, 
Supplant the levelled bank of greenwood trees, 
And, with their poisonous drop, the primrose waix 5 
The purple violet, the columbine, 
And all the lowly children of the vale, 
Both flower and flowering underwood, destroy. 

Idolaters of piny groves maintain, 
That no where else, when fair deciduous trees 


17* BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Their foliage lose, does verdure cheer the eye. 
Verdure ! O word abused ! does that dark range, 
Dingy and sullen, sable as the cloud 
That low'rs on Winter's brow, deserve the name 
Of verdure ! — lovely hue ! that makes yon field 
Of wheaten braird smile cheerful 'mid the gloom 
Of Autumn's close, and threats of muttering storms* 
To eyes unprejudiced by Fashion's law, 
More pleasing far the leafless forest scene, 
Whether beneath the storm it undulate 
A deep-empurpled sea, or tranquil rest 
In moveless beauty, while the frosty power 
Adorns each spray and twig with fleecy plumes* 

Let lovers of the forest first consult 
The nature of the ground. A moist abode 
Best suits the willow tribes, yet will they thrive 
In any soil. The alder, too, prefers 
A station dank ; chiefly the river side 
It loves to haunt, down to the very brink. 


OCTOBER. 175 

Hooted oft-times beneath the gliding stream, 

While round each tree a kindred bush upsprings. 

In moist, not swampy soils, the elm delights ; 

No tree bears transplantation like the elm ; 

With sure success the elm may be removed, 

Even when the twentieth spring draws forth the buds, 

No scanty foliage, no decaying twigs, 

Betoken signs of change : clinging to life, 

An elm-tree stake puts forth young shoots, and spreads 

Its verdant foliage in the gap it fills. 

The dry hill-side, though sterile be the mould, 

Delights the beechen tree. In every soil, 

Or warm or cold, or moist or dry, the birch 

Will rear its smooth and glossy stem, and spread 

Its odoriferous foliage. Loamy moulds 

Best suit the ash ; yet will it thrive in all, 

Save in stiff clays, or in the oozy swamp. 

The monarch of the woods delights in plains 

And valley sides, nor shuns the mountain's brow ; 

Regardless of the storm, the oak's vast limbs 


176 BRITISH GEORGICS, 

Stretch equal all around, and scorn the blast : 
So, when transformed into the floating towers- 
That bear Britannia's thunders o'er the deep, 
Heaved on the mountain billows, they defy 
The elemental war, the battle's strife, 
And proudly quell the storm of flood and fire. 
But fitter far such themes for him who sung 
Ye Mariners of England J in a strain 
More grand, inspired^ than e'er from Grecian lyre 
Or Roman flowed,— that bard of soul sublime. 
Who, in prophetic vision, dared to light 
The torch of Hope at Nature's funeral pile ! 

Meeter for me, amid the rustling leaves, 
To trace the woodland path, and mark the tints 
So varied, yet harmonious, that adorn 
The trees retentive of their summer robes :^- 
The beech of orange hue ; the oak embrowned ; 
The yellow elm ; the sycamore so red ; 
The alder's verdure deep, of all the trees 


OCTOBER. 177 

The latest to disrobe ; the hazle, hung 
.With russet clusters := — hark ! that crashing branch, 
As to the maid he loves, the clambering youth 
Down weighs the husky store: while others catchy 
With hooked rods, the highest slender spra}^, 
And bend them to some upward stretching hand, 
Or shake the ripened shower, and, dexterous, twitch] 
From the fair bosom's shield, the blushing prize. 
One climbs the precipice's crag, and stretches, 
Dizzying the gazer's eye, in dread attempt, 
His arm, to reach some richly-clustered branch ; 
And though he's foiled, perhaps a trembling voice* 
And upturned eye, with eager clasping hands, 
Make disappointment sweet, and first confess 
A mutual flame which oft the tongue denied. 

And now they bear the woodland harvest home^ 
And store it up for blythesome Hallowe'en, 
A night of mirth and glee to old and young. 
With the first star that twinkles in the east, 


178 BRITISH GE0RG1CS, 

From house to house, joyous, the schoolboys bear 
Their new-pulled stocks, while, 'mid the curled blades, 
A few dim candles in derision shine 
Of Romish rites, now happily forgot. 
As each goes out, the bearer homeward hies, 
And 'twixt the lintel and the thatch, lays up 
The well singed emblem of his future mate. 
Then round the fire, full many a cottage ring 
Cheerful convenes, to burn the boding nuts. 
Some lovingly, in mutual flames, consume, 
Till, wasting into embers grey, (sign of long life 
Together spent), they cause sometimes the event 
Believed to be foretold ; some, when thrown in, 
Exploding, bound away, as if they spurned 
Their proffered partner. Marion to the wood, 
Thus slighted, hied, from rowan-tree two-stemmed, 
A sprig to pull ; with quaking heart she passed 
The gloomy firs, the lightning-shivered oak, 
The ruined mill, all silent 'neath the moon. 
Oft did she pause, and once she would have turned. 


OCTOBER. 171 

As cross her path the startled howlet flew, 
Sailing along, but, from an aged thorn, 
The stock-dove faintly coo'd beside his mate ;— 
Forward she sped, and with the dear-won prize^, 
Breathless returned, nor waited long, till, lo, 
A sister-spray adorned her true-love's breast. 
And now, by turns, the laughing circle strives* 
Plunging, to catch the floating fruit, that still 
Eludes the attempt ; nor is the triple spell 
Of dishes, ranged to cheat the groping hand, 
Forgot, nor aught of all the various sports 
Which hoar tradition hands from age to age. 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


NOVEMBER. 


While tumbling, brown, the burn comes down? 

And roars frae bank to brae ; 
And bird and beast hi covert rest, 

And pass the heartless day, 


ARGUMENT. 

Early arrival of the woodcock a prognostic of an ear- 
ly and severe winter — Grass-felds to be saved from 
poaching at this season — Ploughing of old leas — 
Care of the team — Turnip-fields staked off for 
sheep — An adjoining grass-feld necessary for sheep 
during the night — A serene night— A hazy night- 
Various appearances of Will-a-Wisp — Night-scene 
at sea in tropical regions— -Cottage-fireside — Serene 
morning — Hoar-frost — Withered aspect of sward, 
except at fountain brinks and rills — Hence the idea 
of irrigation — The means of irrigation very gene- 
ral in Britain— -Sketches of this mode of improve* 
ment. 


BRITISH GEORGICa 


NOVEMBER. 


W hile wind and rain drive through the half-stripped 

trees,, 
Fanners and flails go merrily in the barn. 
Each brook and river sweeps along deep tinged, 
While down the glen, louder and quicker, sounds 
The busy mill-clack. On the woqdland paths 
No more the leaves rustle, but matted lie, • 

All drenched and soiled ; the foliage of the oak, 
Blent with the lowliest leaves that decked the brier, 
Or creeping bramble, mouldering to decay. 


18± BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Oft at this season, near an oozy spring, 
O'erhung by alder boughs, the woodcock haunts ; 
(Sure .harbinger, when thus so early come, 
Of early winter tedious and severe) ; 
There he imbibes his watery food ; till, scared 
By man and dog, upward, on pinion strong, 
He springs, and o'er the summits of the grove, 
Flies far, unless^ flashing, the quick-aimed tube* 
Arrest his flight, and bring him lifeless down, 
With his long bleeding bill sunk in the marsh. 

From hawless thorn to brier, the chirping flocks 
Flit shivering, while, behind yon naked hedge. 
Drooping, the cattle stand, waiting the hour 
When to the shed or stall they shall return. 

Ye who, on Spring's return, a smooth thick sward 
Upon' your fields would see, must spare them now,. 
At sunny intervals, you may indulge 


NOVEMBER, ISi 

Your prisoned herd to pick the withering blade, 

And the fresh breeze inhale, or to the bank 

Of the swollen river wend, to quench their thirst. 

But if your soil be clay, let not a hoof 

E'er cross your fields, save when the frosty power 

Has hardened them against the poaching hoof. 

Old leas may now be ploughed, though on the plougfe 
Patters the hail shower, whitening all the ridge. 
But loose betimes, and through the shallow pond 
Drive the tired team ; then bed them snug and warm,; 
And with no stinting hand their toil reward. 
Assiduous care the waning year requires, 
For then all animated nature tends 
To sickliness and death. Much it imports 
To cleanse each hoof and pastern ;, but beware 
Of clipping close the fetlock, robbing thus 
The fretted skin of Nature's simple fence 
Against the contact of the encrusting soiL 


186 BRITISH GE0RG1CS, 

While on the turnip fields in portions due 
Staked off, the bleating flock their juicy meal 
Nibbling^ partake, let not their nightly lair 
Be on the mould ; but give them free access 
To some adjoining field,, where, on the sward,, 
A drier bed shortens the winter night. 

Oft; after boisterous days, the rack glides off* 
And night serene succeeds, cloudless and calm, 
Unrolling all the glories of the sky. 
Who would regret the shortened winter day, 
Which shrouds, in light, that spectacle sublime ! 
Who would regret the summer landscape's charm I 
O bounteous Night ! to every eye that rolls, — 
Whether retired in rural solitudes, 
Or to thronged cities, or to desert shores 
Exiled, — -thou spread'st that sight superb, 
And through the hopeless heart shoot'st gleams of joy. 
Thou shew'st to weary man his glorious home. 
As on that happy eve, when peals of peace 


NOVEMBER. 187 

(Ah, short-lived peace !) rang through Britannia's 

realms, 
The homeward veteran, as he weary gained 
Some mountain brow, beheld, far through the gloom, 
His native city all one blaze of light ; 
Joy filled his eyes with tears, joy nerved his limbs^ 
That now, at last, to all whom he held dear, 
He should return, and never more depart. 

Sometimes November nights are thick bedimmed 
With hazy vapours, floating o'er the ground, 
Or veiling from the view the starry host. 
At such a time, on piashy mead or fen, 
A faintish light is seen, by southern swains 
Called Will-a- Wisp : Sometimes, from rushy bush 
To bush it leaps, or, cross a little rill, 
Dances from side to side in winding race ; 
Sometimes, with stationary blaze, it gilds 
The heifer's horns ; or plays upon the mane 
Of farmer's horse returning from the fair, 


188 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

And lights him on his way ; yet often proves 
A treacherous guide., misleading from the path 
To faithless bogs, and solid-seeming ways. 
Sometimes it haunts the church-yard ; up and down 
The tomb-stone's spiky rail streaming, it shews 
Faint glimpses of the rustic sculptor s art, — 
Time's scythe and hour-glass, and the grinning skul!^ 
And bones transverse, which, at an hour like this^ 
To him, who, passing, casts athwart the wall 
A fearful glance, speaks with a warning knell.—- 
Sometimes to the lone traveller it displays 
The murderer's gibbet, and his tattered garb, 
As lambently along the links it gleams. 

While harmlessly, in northern regions, play 
These fires phosphoric, in the tropic climes 
The midnight hours are horribly illumed 
With sheeted lightning ; bright the expanding flame 
Eeddens the boiling ocean wave, and clear 
Displays the topmast cordage, where on high 


NOVEMBER. 1S9 

The ship-boy, trembling, hands the gleaming ropes ; 
While at the helm, appalled, the steersman scans 
The reeling compass, or*, despairing, sees 
The shivered mast ; or, in his eyes, receives 
The searing flash, and rolls the extinguished orbs, 
And wishes, but in vain, that once again 
He could behold the horrors of the storm. 

Even such a man I've seen by cottage fire, 
Relating to the child, that on his knee 
Played with his visage sorrowful, yet mild, 
The wonders of the deep, while busy wheels 
And distaffs stop, and every ear and eye 
Drinks in the dreadful tale, and many a tear 
Is shed by her whose truelove ploughs the main. 
Then homebred histories but short appear:-— 
Some tell how witches, circling mossy cairns, 
Far o'er the heath, dance till the moon arise, 
Or on the martyr's stone their horrid feast 
Set out ; in dead men's skulls for dishes ranged. 


190 BRITISH GEORGICSs 

Perhaps the fairy gambols are the theme. — 

How hand in hand, around the broomy knowe* 

Beneath the silver moon,, they featly trip ; 

Or, by some roofless mill,, their revels hold 

Upon the millstone lying on the green; 

Or o'er the filmy ice (to their light steps 

A floor of adamant) thrid through the dance,, 

With shadowy heel to heel reflected clear, — 

Till, harsh, the tower-perched howlet screech a note 

Discordant with aerial minstrelsy, 

Or o'er the moon a cloud begins to float, 

# 
Then, with the flying beam, before the shade, 

In gleamy dance, they shoot o'er hill and dale, 

Amid November's gloom, a morn serene 
Will sometimes intervene, o'er cottage roof, 
And grassy blade, spreading the hoarfrost bright, 
That crackles crisp when marked by early foot ; 
But soon, beneath the sun-beam, melts away 
The beauteous crustwork^ leaving the blanched sward 


NOVEMBER. 191 

Hung, as with dew-drops on a summer's morn, 

Alas, the impearled sward no. summer tint 

Displays ; withered it lies, or faintly tinged 

With sickly verdure, save by fountain brink, 

Or margin of some slowly-flowing rill : 

There, through the Winter's cold and Summer's hea^ 

A vivid verdure winds, in contrast marked 

With Nature's faded charms, like fresh festoons 

Of summer-flowers on waning Beauty's brow T . 

In spots like these, the last of Autumn's flowers 

Droop, lingering ; there the earliest snow-drop peeps, 

Hence Irrigation's power at first was learn t^ 

A custom ancient, yet but rarely used 

In cold and watery climes ; though even there 

No mode of melioration has been found 

Of more effect, or with more ease obtained, 

Through various regions of Britannia's isle., 
In every field are found abundant means 
Of irrigation : every brawling brook, 


192 BRITISH GEOftGIC:* 

Or tinkling runnel, offers copious draughts 
Of watery nutriment, the food -of plants. 
But only then 'tis useful, when the land 
Is dry by nature, art, or seasons fair ; 
And chiefly when in herbage for the scythe, 
Or browsing lip, 

A free and porous soil 
Upon a gravelly bed, at all times drinks, 
Yet ne'er is quenched. — Who owns a soil like this, 
If through his fields a little mountain-stream, 
Not sunk in channel deep, but murmuring down 
'Tween gently-sloping banks, a mine of wealth 
^Possesses in that stream : A dam, half stone 
Half turf, athwart he rears, then from each side, 
Along his fields he slanting conduits draws, 
Which, with a flow scarce visible, supply 
The smaller branches, till, o'er all his leas, 
And meadows green, he, in a summer day, 
Spreads the whole stream, leaving the channel bare,-* 


NOVEMBER. 193 

Save at some little pools, where, lurking, lie 

The fearful trouts, that from the schoolboy's hand 

Seek refuge vain, 'neath stones or shelving rock. 

Nor is it only in the sultry months 
He leads the freshening fertilizing lymph* 
Even in this humid month he overflows 
The withering grass, but soon again withdraws 
The streams prolific : deep the verdure sprouts 
In close luxuriance ; daisies bud anew, 
And to the sloping wintry beam half ope 
Their crimson-tinted flow'rets, closing soon ; 
For soon they, shrinking, feel 'tis not the breath 
Of early Spring, that woos them to unfold. 

In grounds, by art laid dry, the aqueous bane 
That marred the wholesome herbs, is turned to use : 
And drains, while drawing noxious moisture off, 
Serve also to diffuse a due supply, 

R 


194? BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Some soils of clay, obdurately compact, 
Foil every effort of the draining art. 
Deluged in weeping seasons, they retain 
The falling floods ; each furrow is a pool. 
There irrigation serves no useful end,. 
Unless in summer drouths, and, at such times* 
No land more needs the irrigating aid. 
For cla}^ though ranked among the humid soi!s> 
Is in itself the driest of them all : 
The cloud-descended water it retains, 
But yet excludes, and on the surface bears ; 
Which soon, as by the fervid summer beam 
Exhaled, leaves the unmoistened soil to cling 
Around each root, and yawn with many a cleft,. 

Some level fields, through all the winter months, 
Are covered warmly with a watery sheet : 
Here a rich sward upshoots of lively green, 
Till stopt by contact with its icy soof; 
And when at last, upon a sunny morn> 


NOVEMBEK. 195 

While vernal breezes curl the smooth expanse, 
The liquid veil withdraws^— a reeking mist 
Mantles the plain, till Zephyr gently sweep 
The rolling wreaths away, unfolding wide 
A verdant carpet broidered o'er with flower?. 


BRITISH GEORGICS, 


DECEMBER, 


u The sweeping blast, the sky o*er»cast? 

The joyless Winter day, 
Let others fear, to me more dear 

Than all the pride of May* 

Burns, 


ARGUMENT, 

Wind and sleet— A cottage in ruins— Whirlwinds— 
Secure thatch of stacks and house — Snow — Recom- 
Tnendation to strew food for birds — Their use to the 
farmer in destroying insects — The redbreast — The 
sun appearing faintly through clouds — The labour* 
er—His home employments during the day— His 
cheerful fireside — A contrast — Country deserted by 
those who possessed the power of mitigating the 
hardships of the peasant's lot— Resort to towns — 
—Dissipation — A route — The theatre — A concert- 
Superior enjoyment of those who observe the good 
old hospitality of Christmas in the country— Hogg- 

vianay Various customs— A midnight storm— 

Dawn— Conclusion, 


BRITISH GEORGICS. 


DECEMBEB, 


JLofrD raves the blast, and, snell, the sleety showers 
Drive over hill and dale with hurrying sweep. 
The leafless boughs all to one point are bent, 
And the lithe beech-tops horizontal stream* 
Like shivered pennon from some dipping mast. 
Dismal the wind howls through yon thatchless rocffc 
The cottage skeleton, from whence exiled, 
The inmates pine in some dark city lane.. 
Thinking of that dear desolated home, 
Where many a summer sun they saw go down ; 
Where many a winter night, around the fire* 


200 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

They heard the storm rave o'er the lowly roof. 

Forlorn it stands. Ah ! who is he that views 

The ruin drear, still wandering round and round, 

With doubting aspect, yet with watery eye ! 

Fain would he disbelieve it is the place 

Where he, in innocence and humble peace. 

His infancy and youth had happy spent, 

Till, lured away, he left his parents sad, 

And sought the sea, anticipating oft 

Jlis glad return to aid their downward years : 

And now returned, with expectation full, 

To greet each kinsman s gladdened face, and share 

His hard-worn treasure with the friends he loved, 

And visit all his boyish haunts, he finds, instead, 

A 11 desolate : in speechless gaze, awhile 

He stands, then turns in agony and weeps, 

In bitterness of soul, — as when a bird, 

A-roaming gone for food to feed her young, 

Returning to the well-known bush, beholds 

A mossy tuft, where once had hung her nest,—*- 


DECEMBER. 201 

Drooping, she perches on her wonted spray, 
Then, in a plaintive strain, repeated oft, 
Monotonous, laments her piteous lot. 

On brier and thorn, some straggling hips and haws 
Still linger, while, behind the leafless hedge 
Co wring, the sheep stand fixed in rueful gaze. 
Oft now, a whirlwind, eddying down the vale, 
Uncovers stacks, or on the cottage roof 
Seizing amain, sweeps many a wisp aloft, 
High vanishing amid the hurrying clouds. 
At such a time, oft to your stackyard look, 
And smooth the slightest ruffling of the thatch, 
Binding it firmly down with added coils. 
To guard your roof against the furrowing gust, 
The harrows, till a calmer hour arrive, 
Fencing the weaker parts, will save the whole, 

When broadened hovering flakes begin to wheel, 
And whiten hill and vale, the fowler lays 


202 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

His treacherous lure, and watches till he see 
The scattered snow raised by some fluttering wing, 
Then forward darts to seize his captive prey. 
Strew rather thou the food without the snare ! 
A little sprinkling saves, from Famine's power, 
Full many a beauteous songster, whose sweet pipe. 
In early spring, repays the trifling boon. 
But songs are not the sole return they make : 
Foes of the insect race through every change, — 
The embryotic egg, in bark or leaf 
Deposited; the maggot, chrysalis, 
And winged bane, they ceaseless!}' destroy. 

Of all the feathered tribes, that flock around 
The house or barn for shelter and for food, 
The redbreast chiefly, — sweetest trustful bird,— 
Demands protection from the coming storm. 
Your open window then with crumbs bestrew. 
Inviting entrance ; — soon he'll venture in 
And hop around, nor fear at last to perch 


DECEMBER. 203 

Upon the distaff of the humming wheel, 
Cheering with summer songs the winter day. 

At times the fall abates, and low, through clouds. 
The struggling sun his dim and shapeless disk 
Faintly displays, wan as a watery moon, 
And almost tempts the labourer to his task. 
But when he sees the transient beam withdrawn, 
He shuts again his door, and turns his hand 
To home employment, — mending now a hive, 
With bark of brier darned pliant through the seams % 
Or, looking forward through the wintry gloom 
To summer days, and meadows newly mown, 
Repairs his toothless rake ; or feeds his bees ; 
Or drives a nail into his studded shoon ; 
Or twists a wisp, and winds the spiral steps 
Around the henroost ladder ; deeply fixed, 
Meanwhile, his children quit their play, and stand 
With look enquiring, and enquiring tongue, 
Admiring much his skill. Thus glides the day; 


204? BRITISH GEORGICS* 

Thus glide the evening hours, when laid to rest 
His imps are stilled, and with its deep-toned hum 
The wool-wheel joins the excluded tempest's howl. 
Perhaps some neighbour braves the blast, and cheers 
The fire-side ring ; then blaze the added peats, 
Or moss-dug faggot, brightening roof and wall, 
And rows of glancing plates that grace the shelves. 
The jest meanwhile, or story of old times, 
Goes cheery round ; or, from some well-soiled page, 
Are read the deeds of heroes, by the light 
Mayhap of brands, whereon, when greenwood trees 
Were all their canopy, their armour hung. 

Alas ! in many a cottage no bright blaze 
Cheers the low roof ; but cowring, shivering, round 
The semblance of a fire, a single peat, 
Or bunch of gathered sticks, that scarce return 
A feeble glimmer to the fanning breath, 
The inmates, poor, pine the long eve away, 
Perhaps around the couch of pain they wait. 


DECEMBER. 205 

And minister in darkness to the sick ; 
Or sad, upon a deathbed watching, lean, 
And only know the parting moment past 
By the cold lip, the cold and stiffening hand. 

Ah me ! the rural vale deserted lies, 
By those who hold the power to mitigate 
The hardships of the peasant's humble lot. 
To cities fled, they listless haunt the rounds 
Of dissipation, falsely- pleasure called. 
The crowded route blazes with dazzling glare 
Of multitudinous lights, a senseless shew, 
Of insipidity the very shrine. 
From groupe to groupe behold the trifler range % 
Now listening to the nothings of the fair ; 
Now telling o'er and o'er, to each new audience., 
Some new intelligence which all have heard, 
Or meagre jest, picked from the very crumbs 
And scraps he gathered at some witling's board S 


206 BRITISH GEOR&ICS, 

Or mark liis counterpart, the languid maid* 

Affecting apathy beyond that share 

Which Nature, with no stinted hand, bestowed, 

Another, sensitive all o'er, would shrink, 

Or seem to shrink, from view, yet is attired, — . 

Like flower in hoar-frost veiled, whose every leaf,. 

And every tiny fold, and bosom fair, 

Is obvious to the eye, though hid its hue, 

See some o'erlook the hushed divan, who stake 
A village on the turning of a card. 

Or does the crowded theatre precede 
These midnight orgies ? there, too, Folly rule^ 
And crowns her votaries with ephemeral bays,— 
While far apart, the Tragic Muse, inspired 
By Shakespeare's spirit, speaking from a cloud 
Of thunder, meditates her lofty theme^ 
And awes, or melts, -by turns, a listening world. 


DECEMBER. 207 

Perhaps the feast of music draws the crowd, 
Who, glutted even to surfeit, still with praise. 
With yawning admiration, daub the man, 
That, with bold fingers, gloriously ascends 
Three straw-breadths higher, on the tortured string, 
Than his compeers, and thence extracts 
A squeak, a little squeak, that much delights,— 
Because less grating than most other squeaks. 

Such are the scenes which rob the wintry months 
Of those whom duty, interest, pleasure, call 
A country life to lead. How far surpass 
The pleasures which the few, who still observe 
The good old customs of the Christmas tide ; 
Who see their halls with happy faces thronged, 
The rich, the poor, the old and young, all joined 
In social harmony, — how far surpass 
Their pleasures, those extracted from the round 
Of city life^ from various sameness^ dull 


208 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Laborious merriment, and all the salves, 
The antidotes against the bane of Time ! 

Of all the festive nights which customs old, 
And waning fast, have made the poor man's own., 
The merriest of them all is Hoggmanay. 
Then from each cottage window, 'mid the gloom, 
A brighter ray shoots through the fallen flakes, — 
And glimmering lanterns gleam, like Will-a-Wisp 
Athwart the fields, or, mounting over stiles, 
Evanish suddenly : no dread is now 
Of walking wraith, or witch, or cantrip fell ; 
For Superstition's self this night assumes 
A smiling aspect, and a fearless mien, 
And tardy Prudence slips the leash from Joy, 
To meeting lovers now no hill is steep, 
No river fordless, and no forest dark ; 
And when they meet, unheeded sweeps the blast. 
Unfelt the snow, as erst from summer thorn, 


DECEMBER. ' 209 

Around them fell a shower of fading flowers, 
Shook by the sighing of the evening breeze. 

With smutted visages, from house to house, 
In country and in town, the guisarts range, 
And sing their madrigals, though coarse and rude, 

With willing glee that penetrates the heart. 

i 

O ! it delights my heart, that unstained joy 

Of thoughtless boyhood. Spurn you from my door !— •* 

No, no, rush freely in, and share my fire, 

And sing through all your roll of jovial lilts, 

But older folks their chairs and stools draw in 
Around the fire, and form a circle blythe. 
With riddles quaint, and tricks, and ancient taleSj, 
They pass the time, while oft the reaming horn, 
From hand to hand passed round, arrests midway 
The story-teller in his long-spun tale,— 
Which, not thus baulked, he soon again resumes^ 
And interweaves full many an episode. 
o 


210 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

The temperate banquet done, their several hornet 
Timely they seek, resolved, ere morning dawn, 
With smoking pints, to greet friends, lovers, kin. 

Some blyther bevies, till the midnight hour, 
.^Around the cheerful board their mirth protract, 
To drink a welcome to the good new year ; 
Then crossing arms, with hands enlinked all round^ 
All voices join in some old song, and full 
The tide of friendly harmony o'erflows ! 

December, all thy aspects have their charm; 
The sky o'ercast, the sweeping rack, the calm 
And cloudless day, when reeling midges warp 
In sunny nook; yea, even the raving storm, 

I love the music of the midnight storm, 
When wild, careering, drive the winds and rains, 
And loud and louder, through the sounding grove^ 
The Spirit of the Tempest seems to howl,. 


DECEMBER* 212 

And loud and louder beats the furious blast, 
As if some giant hand, with doubling strokes. 
Struck the strong wall, and shook it to its base. 
Awful the mustering pause, when all is hushed 
Save the fierce river's roar ! How cheering now 
And heartening, sounds the crow of Morning's bird ! 
How deep the darkness ! save when sudden gleams 
Dazzle the eye, that ventures to explore 
The awful secrets of the solemn hour, 

Gradual the storm abates, and welcome peeps 
The long-expected dawn, gloomy at first, 
But tinging by degrees, with copper hue, 
The slowly flying clouds. Most pleasant hour 
Of daybreak ! at all seasons fraught with gladness, 
Whether the sun in summer splendour rise, 
Hailed by a thousand choristers on wing 
Suspended high, or perched on dewy bough ; 
Or whether, through the wintry lowring sky, 
He shoots his watery beam far from the south;— 


212 BRITISH GEORGICS. 

Thou makest the heart of all that lives expand, 

Man, bird, and beast, with joy ; but chiefly man, 

As looking with complacent eye around, 

On this grand frame of things slowly illumed, 

He worships, not in words, but heavenward thoughts, 

Submiss and lowly, that vast power which launched, 

Impels this mighty mass, and guides it round, — 

True to its annual and diurnal course ;— 

Stupendous miracle ! — this mighty mass 

Hurled loose, through realms immense of trackless 

space, 
With speed, compared to which the viewless ball. 
Projected from the cannon's mouth, but creeps 
At a snail's pace, yet without shock or pause^ 
Or deviation infinitely small, 
Rolling along, with motion unperceived, 
As if it moveless lay on Ether's tide. 


NOTES. 


NOTES ON JANUARY. 


Note L 


-Thi; various voice, 


That to the heart, with eloquence divine, isV.*— P. 4. 
— — _ — . — -_« O, mysterious Night ! 


44 Thou art not silent ; many tongues hast thou." 
JOANNA Bail lie. 

Note II, 
*• The first-foof s entering step. — P. 5. 


t; It is supposed that the welfare and prosperity of every 
family, especially the fair part of it, depend very much upon 
the character of the person who is first admitted into the 
house on the beginning of the new year. Hence every sus- 
pected person is carefully excluded ; and the lasses generally 
engage beforehand some favoured youth, who willingly comes, 
happy in being honoured with that signal mark of female dis- 
tinction." — Notes to Njcot's Poems, pejies Jamisson's D.<V- 
tionary* 


210 NOTZS ON JANUARY 


Note III. 


-The steaming fiaggon, horns 


From house to house. — P. 5. 

This is called a Jiet-pint> " a hot-beverage, which it is cus- 
tomary for young people to carry with them from house to 
house on new-year's eve, or early in the morning of the new 
year." — Jamie s ox's Diet. 


Note IV. 

A hedge full grown, if with a hedge now joined \ 
Or circling belt, the climate of your field 
Improves, transmutes from bleak and shivering cold 
To genial warmth. — P. 7. 

" In a mountainous country, and in bleak moorish situa- 
tions, nothing tends more to encrease the value of the soil, 
than plantations properly distributed. They give shelter both 
to the cattle and to the corn crops ; and by preventing the 
warmth which is produced by proper manures, and by the 
germination of vegetables, from being dissipated, they give 
effect to all the efforts of industry. Accordingly, in such 
boos, plantations are no sooner reared, than the whole 
face of the country round them assumes an improving aspect, 
and displays a richer verdure. When suddenly cut down, in 


NOTES ON JANUARY. 21t 

consequence of the necessities of an improvident proprietor, 
the reverse of all this occurs. Vegetation is chilled by the 
piercing blasts which now meet with no resistance, and the 
cattle droop from want of shelter ; so that in a few years the 
place can scarcely be known."— Forsyth, vol. ii. p. 365. 


Note V. 


-For t/tfre a vivid green 


Tinges your early s<ward> there lingers long*— P. 7. 

Shelter not only makes the grass spring early, and return its 
verdure late, and thus produces an additional quantity of food 
for cattle ; but it also makes less food necessary. Nothing 
whets the appetite so much as cold ; and one reason is, that 
an additional stimulus is necessary to keep up the animal heat» 
Hence a cow or a horse, exposed on a bleak lea to every wind 
that blows, will eat twice as much food as one whose pasture- 
range is well protected by trees or hedges ; and yet the effect 
of this additional quantity of nourishment will not be percep- 
tible in fattening the animal. The additional stimulus, and 
the vital energy which that stimulus excites, are partly ex- 
pended m producing a quite different effect, viz. preserving the 
animal from the cold. In the same way, a plant or tree, 
growing in an exposed situation, will be slow of growth and 
stunted, compared to others of the same species planted in a 
goil of the same quality, but protected from the winds. 

But hedges and plantations ought not to be viewed as mere- 
ly local improvements of this or that particular property. Jz 


218 notes cy ;. 

is obvious, that when they are general over the face of a 
country, that country must -be less injured by high winds than 
an open one. Wnat is the violence of the wind owing to at 
sea, or on the sea-shore, when the wind blows from the sea, 
or on the top of a mountain, but to the want of obstacles pre- 
senting repeated checks to its violence ? When free of such 
obstacles, vires acquirit ewido. 


Note VI. 

List not to him, who says that sheltered fields 
Suffer from lack of air \ Zfc. — P. 9. 

There is, no doubt, a degree in which shelter may be inju- 
rious. In a flat low country, if small fields be surrounded 
with hedge-rows, grain crops will be injured by the want of a 
free circulation of air. At the same time, there is often more 
of fancy than sound reason in the apprehension, that hedge- 
rows are on the whole hurtful. Shelter merely produces an 
artificial calm ; that is, it retards the current of the air ; but 
while it retards, it certainly never can stop the current. Nei- 
ther can it prevent, what is of more consequence to the health 
of animal as well as vegetable life, the imperceptible -change 
of one stratum of the atmosphere with another. This is con- 
stantly going on by the ascent of the lower and warmer strata, 
and the descent of the higher and colder. I have often won- 
dered, how the air, in the heart of so extensive a city as Lon- 
don, continued at all fit for respiration during hot, calm, sum- 
mer weather ; but the constant interchange between the lower 
and higher regions of the air accounts for this. 


NOTES ON JANUARY. 219 

Note VII. 

Then see their nightly lair he warm and clean.—! 3 . 15. 

According to Johnson, lair signifies " the couch of a boar, 
or wild-beast? 1 He is evidently under a mistake in giving the 
word this limited signification ; and into this mistake he seems 
to have been led by his conjectural etymology, viz. that the 
word is derived from lai, a French word signifying a sow or a 
forest ; whereas the Word is evidently formed from the prete* 
rite lay of the verb to lie. The very authority which Johnson 
quotes is in direct opposition to the idea, that the word signi- 
fies exclusively the couch of a wild-beast. 


" Thy care must now proceed 

To teeming females and the promised breed ; 
First let them run at large, and never know 
The taming yoke, or draw the crooked plough ; 
Let them not leap the ditch, or swim the flood ; , 
Or lumber o'er the meads ; or cross the wood : 
Eut range the forest, by the silver side 
Of some cool stream, where Nature shall provide 
Green grass and fattening clover for their fare ; 
And mossy caverns for their noon-tide lair? * 

Dryden's Geor. iii. 1. 225. 233, 

In another passage, the word lair is explicitly used to de- 
note the couch of domestic animals within doors- 


220 NOTES ON JANUARY. 

" Next, let thy goats officiously be nursed, 
And led to living streams, to quench their thirst. 
Feed them with winter browse, and, for their lair, 
A cote, that opens to the south, prepare." 

Geor. iii. 1. 473* 


Note VIII, 

■ Nor is it wasteful care i 

For thus, 'gainst Spring's return, l^r.— P. 15. 

" As to litter, it is an object of such importance, that pro- 
vision for the system should be gradually made through the 
winter, if corn enough be not left for summer-threshing to 
supply the beasts. All wheat-stubbles should be cut and 
stacked ; leaves, in woodland countries, should be collected ; 
fern procured from commons and warrens ; rushes and aquatic 
weeds stored from fens, &c. ; and, if nothing else can be had, 
heaps of sand formed for this use ; for which peat also is ex- 
cellent. An enterprising, vigilant farmer, when he has such 
an object as this in view, will exert every nerve to be prepar- 
ed for a system, the profit of which will depend so much on 
the care previously taken to be well provided with litter of 
some sort or other." — Young's Farmer's Calendar, May. 

The management of litter in the dunghill is often very ab- 
surd. It is well known, that, without moisture, straw will 
remain in the state of straw for a very long time. Now, 
many farmers, by way of having a very neat dunghill, build 
k up like a stock* I have seen some of these dung-stacks ten 


NOTES ON JANUARY. 221 

feet in height. The consequence is, that the little moisture 
which the litter has brought with it from the stable, soon 
sinks to the bottom, or evaporates. From such dung-hills 
the farmer may be rather said to thatch than to manure his 
fields. 


Note IX. 
Scared from her reedy citadel, the swan, £^r.— P. 21, 

The beautiful loch of Duddingston has for several ages been 
the habitation of swans. That their settlement there is not of 
very recent date, there is the following curious piece of evi- 
dence. " March 6. 1688. At privy-council, the Duchess of 
Lauderdale pursues Sir James Dick of Priestfield for a riot, in 
so far as she having taken out of Duddingston loch five of the 
swans, which, or their parents, were put in by her lord ; he 
took them back again except two ; for which he broke up 
doors, which no constable, by the act of parliament 1661, is 
allowed to do. 2do, He could not sibi jus dicere.<—Alledged, 
The swans were his own, he standing infeft in the loch, and 
consequently in all that fed on it ; and though they were ferte 
naturce, yet they were like wild beasts inclosed in his park, or 
fish in his ponds ; and though the first were put in by the 
Duke of Lauderdale, yet the product was Sir James's. The 
Lords of Privy-Council found, If they had come of their own 
accord, and bigged (built) there, that they were Sir James's; 
but since the owner who put them in was known, they found 
they belonged to the Duchess ; and that Sir James's tolerance 


222 NOTES ON JANUARY, 

to let them stay in his loch, did not make them his. Upon 
which he turned all the rest out of his loch. But Duke Ha^ 
milton alleging, that the loch bounded with the King's-park, 
and so belonged to him, he put them in again ; and thus took 
possession, in the king's name, of the loch ; which will co?t 
Sir James a declarator of property to clear his right," — Fqun- 
tainhall's Decisions, vol. i. p. 501. 


Note X, 


i The long-expected tryst. 

To play their yearly bonspiel. — P. 21. 

" Bonspel, a match at the diversion of curling on the ice* 
between two opposite parishes." — Jamieson's Diet. 


Note XL 

Dear to the peasant"* $ heart his fireside blaze,. 

And floor new-swept, to greet his glad return. — P. 24 » 

" At e'en, when he comes weary frae the hill, 
I'll hae a' things made ready to his will : 
In winter, when he toils through win*.* and rain, 
A bleezing ingle and a clean hearth-stane. 
As soon as he flings by his plaid and staff, 
The seething-pot's be ready to tak' aff." — 

Gentle Shepherd. 


NOTES ON JANUARY. 223 

Note XII. 
And sliakes the frame ', <when Fawdorfs ghost appears. — P. 25. 

The increasing loudness of the horn, that preceded the 
approach of Fawdon's ghost, is well imagined and. well de- 
scribed : 

" When that ailayne Wallace was levit there, 
The awful blast aboundit meikle mair." 

History of Sir William Walla.ee, book v. L 1ST. 

The history of Wallace by Henry, commonly called Blind 
Harry, is a standard book in the small collection of the Scot- 
tish peasant. Of this book Burns, in a short sketch which he 
gives of his early years, addressed to Dr Moore, thus expresses 
himself: " The story of Wallace poured a Scottish prejudice 
into my veins, which will boil along there, till the flood-gates 
of life shut in eternal rest." I "have no doubt that many of 
the noblest strains of Scotia's lyre, as well as the most splendid 
achievements of her warriors, have had their origin in the lay 
of this ancient minstrel 


£2£ NOTES ON JANUARY. 

Note XIII. 
This is no tale which fabling poets dream. — P. 25. 

For the general truth of the picture which I have drawn, 
I appeal to the excellent remarks en the peasantry of Scotland 
with which Dr Currie has prefaced his Life of Burns. He 
there says, M A slight acquaintance with the peasantry of 
Scotland will serve to convince an unprejudiced observer, that 
they possess a degree of intelligence not generally found among 
the same class of men in the other countries of Europe. In 
the very humblest condition of the Scottish peasants every one 
can read, and most persons are more or less skilled in writing 
and arithmetic ; and under the disguise of their uncouth ap- 
pearance, and of their peculiar manners and dialect, a stranger 
will discover that they possess a curiosity, and have obtained a 
degree of information, corresponding to these acquirements. 

" These advantages they owe to the legal provision made 
t>y the parliament of Scotland, in 1646, for the establishment 
©f a school in every parish throughout the kingdom, for the 
express purpose of educating the poor ; a law which may chal- 
lenge comparison with any act of legislation to be' found in 
the records of history, whether we consider the wisdom of the 
ends in view, the simplicity of the means employed, or the 
provisions made to render these means effectual to their pur- 
pose. This excellent statute was repealed on the accession of 
Charles II. in 1660, together with all the other laws passed 
during the commonwealth, as not being sanctioned by the 


;Z3 ON JANUAiT. 2^5 

royal assent. It slept during the reigns of Charles and James, 
but was re-enacted, precisely in the same terms, by the Scot- 
tish parliament, after the revolution in 1696 ; and this is the 
last provision on the subject." 

In the opinion which immediately follows, viz. that the ef- 
fects of parish schools " may be considered to have commenced 
about the period of the Union," I think Dr Currie is under a 
mistake. The institution itself commenced in the year 1616, 
under the authority of an act of privy council ; that regula- 
tion was enacted into a law in the year 1633 ; and though the 
mode provided for the execution of the law was not the most 
efficient, the inclination of the country coincided so complete- 
ly with the views of the legislature, that parish-schools were, 
soon very generally established throughout the Lowlands of 
Scotland. The act 1646, too. which contains the very provi- 
sions that were the law of the land till very lately, was in full 
force and observance for fourteen years previous to the Restora- 
tion ; and so powerfully had it, and the previous act of parlia- 
ment 1633, and act of privy council 1616, operated on the 
general diffusion of instruction, that in the Lowlands, soon 
after the Restoration, there were very few persons of mature 
years who could not read. This fact is noticed by Woddrow, 
a writer of unquestionable veracity. I have looked for the pas- 
sage without being able to find it. My recollection of it, 
however, is distinct to the extent I have mentioned ; and I 
think that writing is stated as having been also a very general 
accomplishment. 


Q2S NOTES ON JANUARY. 

Note XIV. 
Deny the right of Englishmen to read. — P. 27. 

It is perfectly plain, that without the institution of parish 
schoolmasters, supported partly, as in Scotland, at the expence 
of the public, a great proportion of the children of the lower 
classes of the people of England must, for want of the means 
of instruction, remain unable to read. I am far from asserting, 
that the plan of public instruction lately offered to parliament, 
by an able, an upright, and independent senator, was a per- 
fect one. It was thought to be far too complicated in its de- 
tails. The bill, however, was resisted on the general principle \ 
that the populace ought not to receive school-education from 
the public ; and, what is most strange, this resistance was 
made (if newspaper reports are to be depended on) by a mem- 
ber whose benevolence is well known, and whose commanding 
talents have, in one eminent instance, been exerted in behalf 
of a numerous and most meritorious body of the people. I 
allude to the act of parliament introducing enlistment for 
limited service, — a statute which, while it is admirably con- 
trived for improving the safe efficiency of the vast machine of 
our national defence, is (at least was) of more essential im- 
portance to the rights and liberties of the commons at large, 
as well as of the army itself, than any law that has been 
enacted for half a century. 

It may not be improper here to mention, that the earnest 
desire of the people of England to avail themselves of oppor- 


NOTES ON JANUARY, '227 

tunities of instruction, as well as the miserable deficiency of 
such opportunities, is most strikingly illustrated by a circum- 
stance that sometimes occurs, when detachments of English 
regiments are quartered in the small towns and villages of 
Scotland. It is then not uncommon to see (and a deeply in- 
teresting sight it is) the men, with their side-arm?, sitting on 
the same forms, or at the same desks, with children, learning 
to read and write. 

Some persons consider the general diffusion of a little learn- 
ing as chiefiy useful in enabling men to raise themselves above 
the condition in which they were born. I so far agree with 
this opinion, as to thmk that a general diffusion of learning- 
gives genius a fair start, which otherwise it might not have. 
But I think the chief advantage of that state of knowledge 
which exists in Scotland, is the happiness which it tends to 
confer on men being and remaining in those spheres in which 
they were born and bred. 

In the estimation of some persons, " The great mass of the 
people are as so many teeth in the wheels of a piece of ma- 
chinery, of no further value than as they serve to facilitate ; bs 
movements."-^MRs Hamilton, 


NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 


Note I. 

— The sunny side 
Of gentle slope isjirst to be preferred, 


-there the Sun, 


Great fertiliser ! on the fallow mould 

Strikes powerfully, when at his summer height ± 

With perpendicular ray. — P. 34, 

The fertilizing influence of the sunbeams must be peculiar- 
ly powerful on a soil that has never been exposed to it. Now 
that influence is smaller' or greater in proportion as the rays 
strike the surface at an angle more or less acute ; that is, the 
influence is greater in proportion as the line of the ray ap- 
proaches to perpendicularity with respect to the surface shone 
upon. Hence the surface of a declivity to the south, and the 
lower stratum of the atmosphere covering that declivity, are 
often in a state of genial warmth, while a declivity to the 
north, or even a plain, feels the influence of frost. In a win- 
ter day, a southward slope, if the rise be not very gentle, ah* 


NOTES ON FEBRUARYr 229 

sorbs more of the sun's heat than a plain surface at midsummer. 
The different effects of the sun, according to the lying of the 
soil, is no where so obvious as on molehills during a hard frost, 
the sunny side being often completely thawed, while the other 
is as hard as stone. — It does not follow from this, that a slope 
to the sun is the best situation for every crop. In such situa- 
tions, sown grass, red clover especially, or any other delicate 
plant, will be apt, in the spring months, to be injured by the 
violence of the transition from the degree of heat which they' 
enjoy during the day to the pinching cold of the night. They 
will also be apt to come forward prematurely. 


Note II. 

First draw a single furrow tip and down, 
Theti turning, bV. -P. 35. 

This compendious way of laying land dry, and exposing it 
completely to the influence of the sun and the air, is, with a 
little variation, the invention of my friend Mr John Mackenzie, 
merchant in Glasgow, a man whose originality of genius ha< 
feeen much and successfully exercised on agricultural subiect^ 


23-0 NOTES ON FEBRUARY, 

Note IIL 

The compost pile examine now and turn* — P. 40. 

Lord Meadowbank's short treatise on manures contains the* 
most simple, the most satisfactory, the most concise, and, at 
the same time, the most complete exposition of the theory and 
practice of manure that ever I read. His directions as to the 
management of composts, and particularly of peat compost?, 
ought to be read and studied by every farmer. They are too 
long for insertion here ; but I conceive that, by quoting some 
of the general facts, or rather remarks, with which his Lord- 
ship prefaces his directions on the subject of peat-moss, I shall 
confer a favour on the reader, as the pamphlet itself is not to 
be had in the shops. 

1. u All recently dead animal or vegetable matter, if suffi- 
ciently divided, moist, and not chilled nearly to freezing, 
tends spontaneously to undergo changes, that bring it at length 
to b» a fat greasy earth, which, when mixed with sands, clays, 
and a little chalk or pounded limestone, forms what is called 
rich loam, or garden mould. 

2. " In vegetable matter, when amassed in quantities, these 
changes are at first attended with very considerable heat, (some- 
times proceeding the length of inflammation), which, when 
not exceeding blood-heat, greatly favours and quickens the 
changes, both in animal matter, and the further changes in 
vegetable matter, that are not sensibly attended with the pro* 


NOTES ON FEBRUARY, 231 

duction of heat. The changes attended with heat, are said to 
happen by a fermentation, named, from what is observed m 
making of ale, wine, or vinegar. The latter are ascribed to 
what is called putrefactive fermentation. 

3. " Besides moderate moisture and heat, and that division 
of parts which admits the air in a certain degree, circumstan- 
ces which seem to be necessary to the production of these 
changes, stirring, or mechanical mixture, favours them ; and 
a similar effect arises from the addition of chalk, pounded, 
limestone, lime, rubbish of old buildings, or burnt lime brought 
back to its natural state ; and also of ashes of burnt coal, peat, 
or wood, soap-leys, soot, sea-shells, and sea-ware. And, on 
pressure or consolidation, excluding air ; by much water, espe- 
cially when below the heat of a pool in summer ; by astrin- 
gents, and by caustic substances, as quicklime, acids, and 
pure alkalies, at least till their causticity is mollified, at the. 
expence of the destruction of part of the animal and vegetable 
matter to which they are added. 

4. " These changes are accomplished by the separation or 
decomposition of the parts or ingredients of which the dead- 
vegetables and animals are composed ; by the escape of some- 
what of their substance in the form of vapours or gasses ; by 
the imbibing also of somewhat from water, and from the at- 
mosphere ; and by the formation of compound matters, from 
the re-union of parts or ingredients, which had been separated 
by the powers of the living vegetables and animals. The 
earlier changes, and in general those which take place previous 
to the destruction of the adhesion and texture of the dead ve- 
getables and animals, appear to be rather pernicious than fa- 
vourable to the growth of living vegetables^ exposed to the 


2S2 NOTES ON FEBRUARY* 

direct effect of them ; whereas the changes subsequent to the 
destruction of the animal and vegetable texture, promote 
powerfully the growth of plants, and, partly by their imme- 
diate efficacy on the plants exposed to their influence, partly 
by the alterations they produce in the soil, constitute what is 
to be considered as enriching manure. 

5. " It should be the object of the farmer to give his soil 
the full benefit of these latter changes, decompositions, and 
recompositions, which proceed slowly, and continue to go on 
for years after the manure is lodged in the soil. Even loam 
or garden mould is still undergoing some remaining changes of 
the same sort ; and, by frequently stirring it, or removing it, 
and using it as a top-dressing, its spontaneous changes are so 
favoured, that it will yield heavy crops for a time without 
fresh manure ; or, in other words, it is rendered in so far a 
manure itself, as it decomposes faster than its ordinary and 
more stationary state, and, in so doing, nourishes vegetables 
more abundantly, or forms new combinations in the adjoining 
soil, that enable it to do so." " It should also be the object 
of the farmer, to employ the more early changes, not only 
to bring forward the substances undergoing them into a 
proper state to be committed to the soil, but to accelerate 
<;i* retard them, so as to have his manure ready for use 
at the proper seasons, With as little loss as possible, from part 
being too much and part too little decomposed ; and also to 
avail himself of the activity of those changes, to restore to a 
state of sufficiently rapid spontaneous decomposition, such 
substances in his farm, as, though in a state of decay, had be- 
come so stationary as to be unfit for manure, without the aid 
of heat and mkture. 


NOTES ON FEBRUARY. 233 

u By attention to the two first particulars, and the proper 
use of compression, stirring, and mixture, the farm dunghill, 
though formed slowly, and of materials in very various states 
of decay, is brought forward in nearly the same condition. 
By attention to the latter, manure may, in most situa- 
tions in Scotland, be tripled or quadrupled ; et Jinum est 
aurum. On the other hand, by inattention to them, part 
of the manure is put into the soil unprepared, that is, in a 
situation where the texture of the vegetable is still entire ; 
and, its decomposition never having been carried far by the 
heat and mixture of a fermenting mass, proceeds in the soil 
so slowly, that, like ploughed-down stubble, it does not merit 
the name of manure. Part, again, is apt to be too much 
rotted ; that is, much of it is too nearly approaching to the 
state of garden mould, whereby much benefit is lost, by the 
escape of what had been separated during the process it has 
undergone, and the good effects in the soil of what remains 
are less durable ; for, between solution in water, and rapid 
decomposition, from its advanced state of rottenness, it is soon 
reduced to that of garden mould ; and, in fine, the powers of 
fermenting vegetable with animal matter, which, when pro- 
perly employed, are certainly most efficacious in converting 
into manure many substances that are otherwise very station- 
ary, and slow in their decomposition, are lest to the farmer ; 
so that he is often reduced to adopt an imperfect and little 
profitable mode of cultivation, from the want of the manure 
requisite for a better, though such manure may be lying in 
abundance within his reach, but useless, from his ignorance 
how to prepare it." 


234 MOTJiS S..K FEBRUARY 


Note IV. 


» — — — ~~~And toss around the heaps, 

J er all the surface equally dispread. — P. 40., 

To separate manure into minute parts, and mix it equally; 
is as necessary to its complete and wholesome effect, as the. 
mastication of food is to the process of digestion. 


Note V. 

The larger harrow, called by some the brake." -P. 41. 

" The necessity of some instrument, more effectual thaa 
the common harrow, for reducing a stubborn soil, has led 
farmers to put three or four harrows, one above another, in 
order to press the undermost into the ground. This substitute 
to the brake is far inferior in its effect ; beside that the under- 
most harrow is torn to pieces in an instant. To conclude this 
article, a farmer, who has no brake, wants a capital instru- 
ment of husbandry. Its price above that of common harrows v 
bears no proportion to the profit." 

LordKames's Gentleman Farmer* 


NOTES ON FEBRUARY, 235 


Note VI. 

JVor is tlure found a crop that yields increase 
More sure, abundant, and at smaller charge, 
Than does the willow grove.— P. 42. 

" It is now a proper time to plant osiers and other sorts of 
willows. No part of the farmer's business pays better than 
such plantations, and especially if he has any low, spongy, 
boggy bottoms near a stream. The land should be formed by 
spadework into beds, six, eight, or ten feet broad, by narrow 
ditches ; and if there is a power of keeping water in these 
cuts at pleasure by a sluice, it is in some seasons very advan- 
tageous to. do so/'— Young's. Farmer's Calendar* February, 


NOTES ON MARCH. 


Note I. 

The broad-leaved plants whose product is their root, 

They least exhaust ; and next the legume tribes, tfc. — P. 53. 

The following remarks by Lord Karnes on the effects of 
different crops, contain a very distinct and philosophical expo- 
sition of the principles on which the practice of rotation of 
crops depends. 

" Culmiferous plants, having small leaves and few in num- 
ber, depend mostly on the soil for nourishment, and little on 
the air. During the ripening of the seed, they draw probably 
their whole nourishment from the soil ; as the leaves by this 
time, being dry and withered, must have lost their power of 
drawing nourishment from the air. Now, as culmiferous 
plants are chiefly cultivated for their seed, and are not cut 
down till the seed be fully ripe, they may be pronounced all of 
them to be robbers, some more some less. But such plants, 
while young, are all leaves ; and in that state draw most of 
their nourishment from the air. Hence it is, that where cut 


NOTES ON MARCH. 237 

green, for food to cattle, a culmiferous crop is far from being 
a robber. A hay crop, accordingly, even where it consists 
mostly of rye-grass, is not a robber, provided it be cut before 
the seed is formed ; which at any rate it ought to be, if one 
would have hay in perfection. And the.foggage, excluding 
frost by covering the ground, keeps the roots warm. A legu- 
minous plant, by its broad leaves, draws much of its nourish- 
ment from the air. A cabbage, which has very broad leaves, 
and a multitude of them, owes its growth more to the air than 
to the soil. One fact is certain, that a cabbage cut and hung 
up in a damp, place, preserves its verdure longer than other 
plants. At the same time, a seed is that part of a plant 
which requires the most nourishment ; and for that nourish- 
ment a culmiferous plant must be indebted entirely to the soil. 
A leguminous crop, on the contrary, when cut green for food, 
must be very gentle to the ground. Pease and beans are legu- 
minous plants ; but being cultivated for seed, they seem to 
occupy a middle station : their seed makes them more severe 
than other leguminous crops cut green : their leaves, which 
grow till reaping, make them less severe, than a culmiferous 
plant left to ripen. 

" These plants are distinguished no less remarkably by the 
following circumstance : — All the seeds of a culmiferous plant 
ripen at the same time. As soon as they begin to form, the 
plant becomes stationary, the leaves wither, the roots cease to 
push, and the plant, when cut down, is blanched and sapless. 
The seeds of a leguminous plant are formed successively : 
flowers and fruit appear at the same time in different parts of 
the plant. This plant accordingly is continually growing, and 
pushing its roots. Hence the value of bean or pease straw 


23S NOTES ON MARCH* 

above that of wheat or oats : the latter is withered and dry 
when the crop is cut ; the former green and succulent. The 
difference, therefore, with respect to the soil, between a cul- 
miferous and leguminous crop, is great. The latter growing 
till cut down, keeps the ground in constant motion, and leaves 
it to the plough loose and mellow. The former gives over 
growing long before reaping, and the ground, by want of 
motion, turns compact and hard. Nor is this all. Dew fall- 
ing on a culmiferous crop, after the ground begins to harden, 
rests on the surface, and is sucked up by the next sun. Dew 
that falls on a leguminous crop is shaded from the sun by the 
broad leaves, and sinks at leisure into the ground. The 
ground, accordingly, after a culmiferous crop, is not only hard, 
but dry ; after a leguminous crop, it is not only loose, but soft 
and unctuous." 

" Euibous-rooted plants are, above all, successful in divid- 
ing and pulverizing the soil. Potatoe-roots grow six, eight, or 
ten inches under the surface ; and, by their size and number, 
they divide and pulverize the soil better than can be done by 
the plough ; consequently, whatever be the natural colour of 
the soil, it is black when a potatoe-crop is taken up. The po- 
tatoe, however, with respect to its quality of dividing the 
soil, must yield to a carrot or parsnip ; which ^are large roots, 
and pierce often to the depth of eighteen inches. Tfcie turnip, 
by its tap-root, divides the soil more than can be done by a 
fibrous-rooted plant ; but as its bulbous root grows mostly 
above ground, it divides the soil less than the potatoe, the 
carrot, or' the parsnip. Red clover, in that respect, may be 
put in the same class with turnip 


NOTES ON HARCH. 239 


Note II. 


Then pare the turf, 

And lay it loosely up, in hollow heaps, 
Triangular ■; next kindle each, till far 
The smoky clouds, bY. P. 56, 

" The practice of burning the surface, and applying the 
-ashes as manure to the soil that remains, has been long pre- 
valent in Britain ; and though it has been condemned, 
nay reprobated, by many chemical writers, and prohibited 
in numerous instances by proprietors, yet, by professional 
people, who judged upon the utility of the practice ac- 
cording to the nature and consequences of the after-effects, it 
has, almost in every case, been supported, and considered as 
the most advantageous way of bringing in and improving all 
soils, where the surface carried a coarse sward, and was com- 
posed of peat-earth, or other inactive substances. The burn- 
ing of this surface has been viewed as the best way of bring- 
ing such soils into action ; the ashes, furnished by the burning, 
serving as a stimulant to raise up their dormant powers, there- 
by rendering them fertile and productive in a superior degree 
than otherwise could possibly be accomplished. 

" These have been the sentiments of husbandmen for many 
generations, and are not to be overturned by the force of ab- 
stract reasoning, however plausibly and forcibly urged. Were 
a field to be burned, and the ashes thereby produced to be 
/removed to another, the objections of chemists would be well 


'210 ".- TES ON FEBRUARY, 

founded ; but so long as these ashes are spread upon the sur- 
face, and an effect produced upon the remainder of the soil 
and subsoil, equal, if not superior, to that occasioned by calca- 
reous manure, no evil is to be dreaded. The soil, in place of 
being thinned by the burning, is, in fact, thickened ; because 
a portion of the subsoil is impregnated and brought into action^ 
whereby the staple is deepened, and its productive powers 
increased. It must be remarked, however, that as the effects 
of burnt ashes, though instantaneous, are not of long duration, 
a dressing of dung, in the third year, becomes highly neces- 
sary ; after which, land so treated should be restored to grass. 
The great object to be attended to, when stimulants are em- 
ployed, is to use gentle and lenient cropping afterwards ; 
otherwise, what with justice might have been considered as a 
meritorious improvement, may turn out to deserve a contrary 
character."— Mr Brown of Markle, Editor of the Farmer's. 
Magazine. Fid Edinb. Encycl. art. Agriculture, sect. yi. 


Note III. 

And what more fitting form at once to hold 

The kindled fuel, and apply the heat, 

Than one well known, — the rolling cylinder. — P. 58, 

I am convinced that the benefit derived from paring and*' 
burning, or from the combustion of substances, such as straw, 
brought and laid upon the surface, does not consist merely in 
•the conversion of the substances so burnt into manures, but 
consists partly in the heat imparted to the soil Where the 


fcTOTES ON MARCH. 211 

operation of paring and burning cannot be performed, as in 
lands already under tillage, a very great degree of heat may 
be applied in the manner which I have attempted to point out. 
An iron cylinder of two feet and a half diameter would hold 
a cart of coals. It might be so divided into compartments, 
that the coals would not be broken down by shifting round. 
A number of holes in the sides (not in the circumference) 
would be sufficient for supplying the iire with air ; and these 
holes might be so contrived, that any number of them might 
be shut or opened, so as to diminish or increase the violence 
of the combustion. A high degree of heat would not answer, 
as the iron, if red hof^ would bend. The iron would need to 
be kept at that degree of heat which is between blue and red, 
but more on the blue. Cast iron, on coming in contact with 
water, would be apt to crack, and hammered iron would be 
expensive. I should think that a cast-iron cylinder, sheathed, 
in hammered iron, would do. This may be a visionary pro- 
ject, and may perhaps subject me to ridicule. I state it with 
no degree of confidence ; I merely throw it out as perhaps not 
unworthy of trial by those who have opportunities, and who 
can afford the expence of a full and fair experiment. To such 
as are disposed to treat with ridicule him who ventures to sug- 
gest what he conjectures may possibly be of use, I would ob- 
serve, that such treatment, though in a great proportion of 
cases, as probably in this, it may be fitly enough applied, can- 
not tend to the advancement of science, which, it is well 
known, has sometimes derived improvement from the acci- 
dental discoveries and observations of persons equally ignorant 
on chemical subjects, as I, with regret, confess myself to be. 
Q 


212 NOTES ON MARCH, 

Note IV. 

And downy flowers on river-loving palms* P. 60* 

Our excellent Scottish lexicographer, Dr Jamieson, though 
he generally unites accuracy with ingenuity in his explanatory 
and etymological disquisitions, has fallen into a mistake with 
respect to the meaning of the word palm. Under the article 
saagh (willow), he notices the word palms, as signifying the 
flowers of the willow. Now the word, as used in Scotland, 
signifies the tree itself. This use of the word is certainly an 
Instance of perversion of terms ; and I account for it in this 
way : — The willow is one of the trees whose leaves and flowers 
appear very early in the spring. In times of Popery, when the 
different parts of our Saviour's history were made the subject 
of processions and shows, the circumstances attending his final 
entry into Jerusalem were not forgotten ; and, among other 
circumstances, that of the people going out to meet him 
with branches of palm-trees (John, ch. xiii. ver. 13.) made 
part of the ceremony observed on the sixth Sunday after 
Easter, called Palm-Sunday ; but as palm-trees are not to be 
had in our northern regions, the tree earliest in leaf and flower 
was chosen as a substitute. The earliest species of the willow 
was naturally chosen, and hence it got the name of the palm- 
tree. In some parts of Scotland, Palm-Sunday has been con- 
verted into Palm-Saturday, when the boys still make proces* 
^ior.s with branches of palm-trees* 


NOTES ON KA1CX. 243 


Note V.- 


Therefore by day their gateway-porch enlarge*- ' 
But still at e-ve let it be closed secure. — P. 60. 

" In spring I generally shut up the doors of my hives every 
evening, as soon as the bees are all got in, and open them 
again next morning ; and I even do this for whole days during' 
that season, when the cold is severe ; as cold wind blowing in 
at their entries are extremely prejudicial to them, and ought 
therefore to be prevented with all possible care. By tins 
simple practice, the bees are kept warm and healthy, which 
is greatly beneficial to them in breeding. But in following 
this plan, great caution must be observed, that the bees have 
no other vent to get out at, as the consequences would be 
fatal." 

****** 

, " In spring, as the bees gradually increase in numbers, 
their entry should be gradually widened, lest they be impeded 
in their labours ; but this should only be done in proportion to 
the number of bees in a hive. During March and April, they 
should be very little, as warmness is health to bees, and fur- 
thers their hatching greatly." 

* * * * * * 

" The method of enlarging or straitening the entries of 
hives is quite simple. Pieces of wood, all of one size out- 
wardly, but with holes cut in the under part of them, of the 
•various dimensions above described, might be made and kept 


24-ii NOTES ON MARCH. 

ready at all times, to be exchanged with each other, according 
as the season requires, or the bee-master wishes to widen or 
, to straiten his hives ; but indeed a little plaster lime will 
straiten or widen an entry in spring and summer, with very 
little trouble." — Bonner on Bees. 

To those who cultivate bees, whether for amusement or 
profit, I would recommend this book, as containing, amid 
some strange but amiable enthusiasm, a great portion of ac- 
curate observation and just remark, 


Note VI. 


"And when the welkin's warm, 


Nor sudden frost, nor ram will harm your fields, — P. 62, 

The warmth of the lower region of the air is sometimes 
very deceitful. Often when a westerly wind blows below, in 
the higher regions a contrary current prevails. It is a common 
saying among country people, that when the frost taks the lift, 
there will be bad weather. The lift signifies the firmament, 
or higher parts of the atmosphere. Whenever those parts are 
in a cold state, whether from the wind blowing from a cold 
quarter, or from any other cause, the flight of the J~ark is, 
comparatively speaking, low ; and even its notes are less full 
and melodious. 


NOTES ON APRIL. 


Xote I. 

Soon as the earliest swallow skims the mcacl y 
The barley sowing is by some begun. — P. 67. 

" Magna fides avium est ; experiamur aves." 

Ov. Fast. lib. iv. 814. 

In choosing the proper times for performing the different 
operations of husbandry, the farmer's plans ought not to be 
regulated by the present appearances of the weather ; neither 
ought they to be regulated by the progress of vegetation in 
wild plants or trees ; for they in general afford no more than 
evidence of what, on the whole, the state of the season has 
hitherto been. On the other hand, the birds of passage un- 
doubtedly possess an instinctive forecast of what is to be tjie 
state of the weather. 

The connection, indeed, between the appearance of certain 
birds, and, the future state of the weather, is so striking, that 
the ancients seem to have derived from these natural prognos- 
tications, the whole system on which their auspices pretended 


2*0 SiOTES ON APRIL, 

to foretell even such events, as could have had no dependance 
on the appearances of Nature. The superior foresight (so to 
speak) of birds is easily accounted for. A swallow, for in- 
stance, is probably able to traverse Europe in four-and-twenty 
hours, consequently its determinations to begin or to continue 
its migrations may easily be the result of observations on the 
state of the atmosphere, made not in this or that particular 
district, but in a compass of several hundreds of miles. The 
appearance, then, of birds of passage, may be considered as 
affording a surer prognostic of the future state of the weather, 
than the state of vegetation in plants and trees possibly can ; 
inasmuch as the range of observation and feeling of birds is 
extensive, their perceptions exceedingly acute, and their very 
existence dependent upon the state of the season in those 
countries to which, at particular times, they resort. 


Note II. 

Should in saline infusion drench the seed. — P. 67* 

The practice of steeping seed in different kinds of pickle is 
as old as the days of Virgil ; 

" Semina vide equid'em multos medicare serentes, 
£t nitro prius et nigra perfundere amurca." 

Geo?: i. 1. 132. 

Though indeed, from the line that immediately follows these 
two, it would seem that Virgil had no great faith in such- 
preparations, 

" Crandior ut foetus siliquis fallaci&us esset." 


2JOTES ON .APRIL. 2i1 

Modern experience, however, has proved, beyond a doubt, 
that the steeping of seed in water strongly impregnated with 
salt, is often of very great advantage. 

" The last spring (1783) being remarkably dry, I soaked 
my seed-barley in the black water taken from a reservoir, 
which constantly receives the draining of my dungheap and 
stables. As the light corn floated on the top, I skimmed it 
off, and let the rest stand 24 hours. On taking it from the 
water, I mixed the seed-grain with a sufficient quantity of 
sifted wood-ashes, to make it spread regularly, and sowed 
three fields with it. I began sowing the 16th, and finished 
the 23d of April. The produce was 60 bushels per acre of 
good -clean barley, without any small or green corn, or weeds 
at harvest. No person in this country had better grain." 

" I sowed also several other fields with the same seed dry. 
and without any preparation ; but the crop, like those of my 
Reighbours, was very poor ; not more than 20 bushels per acre, 
and much mixed with green corn and weeds when harvested. 
I also sowed some of the seed dry on one ridge in each of my 
former fields, but the produce was very poor in comparison of 
the other parts of the field.". — A Correspondent of the Bath 
Society, vuL Forsyth, vol. L p. 502, 


£43 NOTES ON APRIL, 


Note III. 

And then, with cautious hand, the hedges lop, 
Broad at the bottom, tspering by degrees. — P. 67. 

The following observations by Lord Karnes, on the proper 
method of rearing hawthorn-hedges, though very important, 
are not sufficiently attended to : 

" We are now arrived at the most important article of all, 
that of training up a thorn-hedge after it is planted. The or- 
dinary method is, to cut off the top and shorten the lateral 
branches, in order to make it thick and bushy. To the same 
end, the young thorns, after standing six or seven years, are 
sometimes cut over within two or three inches of the ground, 
which multiplies the stems, and makes the hedge still thicken 
This form of a hedge catches the eye : by its thickness it is 
formidable to cattle, but its weakness is discovered when bare 
of leaves, and cattle break through every where without ob- 
struction. 

" I have the experience of three hedges trained for twelve 
years, as follows : — The first has been annually pruned, top 
and sides. The sides of the second have been pruned, but the 
top left entire. The third was allowed to grow without 
any pruning. The first is at present about four feet broad, 
and thick from top to bottom ; but weak in its stems, and 
unable to resist any horned beast. The second is strong in its 
. and close from top to bottom. The third is also strong 


NOTES ON APRIL. 249 

in its stems, but, for two feet up, bare of lateral branches, 
which have been destroyed by the overshadowing of those 
above, depriving them both of rain and air. That the second 
is the best method, is ascertained by experience ; and that it 
ought to be so, will be evident, if we can trust to analogy. 
In the natural growth of a tree, its trunk is proportioned to 
its height : lop off the head, it spreads laterally, and becomes 
strong, without rising in height or swelling in the trunk." 

Another able writer observes, that " The great art of pre- 
serving hedges fencible, after they are raised, consists in keep- 
ing them three or four times broader at the bottom than at 
the top. By this means, every part has the full advantage of 
the sun, air, and rain; it grows equally thick throughout, 
and particularly below, where it is most necessary. But when 
a hedge is trained broader at top, or even perpendicular, that 
half of it next the surface is under the drip of the rest; and, 
deprived of sun and rain, it sickens ; produces few T or no young 
shoots ; the sap' runs all to the top of the hedge ; it gets quite 
bare below ; and soon becomes unfit for a fence. Every ac- 
curate observer will allow^ that this is the case, more or less, 
in the greater part of what are generally considered as the 
best kept hedges, such as those surrounding market-gardens in 
the neighbourhood of towns, which, though they are annually 
cleaned and shorn with great care, are commonly so naked 
below, as to admit hares, dogs, swine, &c. — Loudon's Obser- 
vations, edit. 1801, p. l\3. 


^259 NOTES ON APRIL, 


Note IV. 

Sojiis husbandinen, as if by rage impelled^ 
With unrelenting hatchets, level low 
Each full-grown hedge.— P. 68. 

The mania of massacring hedges, not old decayed hedges* 
but such as are still in their prime, is quite unaccountable. 
Even when hedges are old, the practice of hewing them down 
within a foot or less of the ground is quite absurd. The 
stumps thus left, it will be observed, never grow a bit higher ; 
so that they do not present any thing like an interim fence ; 
and the twigs that shoot from them, unless defended with all 
the care that a young hedge requires, are liable to be de- 
stroyed by cattle passing over and through them. Cutting 
over at the distance of three feet from the ground, answers 
the purpose of obtaining a crop of new shoots equally well, 
while the old stems, with the aid of a stake put in here and 
there, continue to be a useful fence. Besides, cutting a thern 
very near the root often destroys, and always greatly impairs, 
the vegetative powers of the stump. 

The practice of plashing, though it does not deprive the 
field of an interim fence, is condemned by Lord Kames in 
these words : " Plashing an old hedge, an ordinary practice 
in England, makes indeed a good interim fence ; but at the 
long run is destructive to the hedge : and accordingly, there 
is scarcely to be met with a complete good hedge, where 
plashing has been long practised. A cat is said, among thf 


NOTES ON APRIL 251 

vulgar, to have nine lives ; is it their opinion, that a thorn, 

like a cat, may be cut and slashed at will, without suffering 
hy it.?" 


Note V. 

The genius of the thorn is misconceived^ bV.— P. 69. 

Hawthorns, and all the thorny tribes which, in a state of 
Mature, run into thickets, thrive the better for being crowded. 
In a crowded state, that is, in the state of a thicket, they will 
not indeed assume the appearance of trees, as single hawthorns 
do, but they will possess health and vigour as shrubs. They 
will not shoot into tall sickly poles, as trees properly so called 
do, when they are crowded together. It is, therefore, quite 
absurd to plant thorns like turnips or potatoes, in drills, by 
way of making them healthy. It is, no doubt, easier to weed 
a hedge, consisting of a single regular row of plants, than 
one consisting of thorns three or four deep. But, in truth, 
there would be no difficulty in weeding young thorns, though 
they formed even a broad belt. They should never be weeded 
with any other instrument than the hand ; for the bark (a 
most essential part in the structure of a plant) is always more 
or less wounded by the use of iron weeders. After being 
weeded by the hand for a year or two, they require no aid to 
enable them to keep their ground against the growth of weeds. 
But weeding at all would be quite unnecessary, if the plan which 
I suggest were to be adopted. Protection for two or three years 
against the assaults of cattle, would be quite sufficient to en* 


2b'2 NOTES ON APRIL. 

sure the growth of an impenetrable fence. The surface of 
the little mounds on which our single-row hedges are reared, 
is seldom less than five or six feet. I do not mean that such 
mounds are generally five or six feet in breadth, but merely 
that, measuring from the ditch up the slope over, and down 
to the ground on the other side, there is generally a surface 
of the extent at least which I have mentioned. Now, though 
in estimating the space which, in such cases, may be filled 
with plants that grow, like the hawthorn, upright, the base 
of the ground must be the rule, .yet when the plantable space 
(so to speak) is estimated, partly in reference to shrubs that 
creep or climb, the superficial extent of the mound is so far 
the rule for estimating the number of plants which the 
space will hold, I do then, with some confidence, say, that on 
such a space of five or six feet, by mixing several kinds of the 
thorny shrubs together, adding perhaps some willows and 
honeysuckles, fences of the most sufficient and durable, as 
well as beautiful kind, might be reared without any other 
trouble than that of keeping them from encroaching beyond 
their prescribed limits. Brambles and briers, though they are 
short-lived plants, are every year pushing out fresh shoots ; 
and in this way are excellently fitted for filling up the lower 
parts of fences, where the under branches of the more perma- 
nent thorns have decayed. They are useful in another re- 
spect ; for though they are weaker than either the white or 
black thorn, yet, from the hooked shape of their prickles, they 
form a more formidable obstacle to sheep. Nor can the injury 
h they might do to the wool be objected to, since it is 
only imperfect fences, that is, such as the sheep know by ex- 
perience they can force a way through, that they ever attempt 


KOTES ON APRIL. 253 

to break. The social nature of the hawthorn is proved by 
another circumstance, besides its thriving best in thickets, — 
namely, that even the close embrace of ivy does it no injury. 
The finest hawthorn-trees that I have seen were encircled with' 
that beautiful evergreen. I do not think that it is even much 
injured by trees overspreading it, for it certainly grows with 
great luxuriance in woods. 


Note VI. 

There place your foot, let not a twig encroach — P. 71« 

I, of course, limit this observation to cases where ornament 
is only a secondary consideration. A certain irregularity and 
wildness of appearance in a hedge is more pleasing than a 
uniform trimness. At the same time, I am far from approving 
of that fastidious attachment to systematic irregularity, that 
would 'exclude, from all the productions of Nature, every 
trace of the human hand, 

Note VII. 


-With Highland flings 


Not void of grace. P. 72. 

The superiority of Highland dancing, as existing in the 
Highlands, is admirably described by Mrs Grant ; 


£M NOTES ON APRIL.. 

"" Then native music wakes in sprightly strains,. 
Which gay- according motion best explains : 
Fastidious Elegance, in scornful guise, 
Perhaps th' unpolished measure may despise ; 
But here, where infants lisp in tuneful lays, 
And melody her untaught charms displays ; 
- The dancers bound with wild peculiar grace, 
And sound through all its raptured mazes trace ; 
Nor awkward step, nor rude ungainly mien, 
Through all the glad assemblage can be seen : 
But with decorous air, and sprightly ease, 
Even critic taste the agile dancers please., 
Cameleon Fashion's self, whose varying hue 
Assumes the likeness of each object new, 
Returns, to copy Motion's artless grace, 
Even from the wildest of the mountain race, 
And, with decisive voice, her votaries calls, 
To ape, with air constrained, the rural balls ! 
The nymph that wont to trace the source of Tay v 
Or lead the sprightly dance by rapid Spsy, 
With conscious triumph, smiles aside to see, 
This ' faint reflection of the rural glee ;' 
Short pleasure languid imitation feels, 
While polished courtiers pant in active reels." 

The Highlanders, p. 55, 1st editor 


NOTES ON APBIL. 253 


Note VIII. 


A softened tone, and slower measure flows, 

Sweet from the strings, and stills the boisterous joy, ->P. 7 So 

In Ramsay's time, it seems to have been common for fiddlers 
to accompany the instrument with the voice. 

" In sonnet slee the man I sing, 
His rare eng'yne in rhyme shall ring,. 
Wha slaid the stick out o'er the string 

Wi' sic an art ; 
Wha sang sae sweetly to the spring, 

An' raised the heart." 

Elegy on Patie Birnie*. 


NOTES ON MAY. 


Note I, 

Even love itself, that in the peasant's heart- 
Was wont to glow nvith pure and constant flame, bV.--P. 82, 

" In appreciating the happiness and virtue of a community, 
there is perhaps no single criterion on which so much depen- 
dence may be placed, as the state of the intercourse betwixt 
the sexes. Where this displays ardour of attachment, accom- 
panied by purity of conduct, the character and the influence 
of women rise in society, our imperfect nature mounts in the 
scale of moral excellence; and, from the source of this single 
affection, a stream of felicity descends, which branches into a 
thousand rivulets, that enrich and adorn the field of life. 
Where the attachment between the sexes sinks into an appe- 
tite, the heritage of our species is comparatively poor, and 
man approaches the condition of the brutes that perish' 9 

Remarks on the Character and Condition of the 
Scottish Peasantry, by Dr Currie. 


NOTES ON MAY, 257 

The ardour of attachment and purity of conduct here spoken 
of, are in part ascribed by Dr Currie to the influence of the 
national music and poetry. ' 

" Their present influence on the character of the nation is, 
however, great and striking. To them we must attribute, in 
a great measure, the romantic passion which so often charac- 
terises the attachments of the humblest of the people of Scot- 
land, to a degree that, if we mistake not, is seldom found in 
the same rank of society in other countries. The pictures of 
love and happiness exhibited in their rural songs, are early 
impressed on the mind of the peasant, and are rendered more 
attractive from the music with which they are united. They 
associate themselves with his own youthful emotions ; they 
elevate the object as well as the nature of his attachment ; 
and give to the impressions of sense, the beautiful colours of 
imagination. Hence, in the course of his passion, a Scottish 
peasant often exerts a spirit of adventure, of which a Spanish 
cavalier need not be ashamed. After the labours of the day 
are over, he sets out for the habitation of his mistress, perhaps 
at many miles distance, regardless of the length or dreariness 
of the way. He approaches her in secrecy, under the dis- 
guise of night. A signal at the door or window, perhaps 
agreed on, and understood by none but her, gives information 
of his arrival ; and sometimes it is repeated again and again, 
before the capricious fair one will obey the summons. But if 
she favours his addresses, she escapes unobserved, and receives 
the vows of her lover under the gloom of twilight, or the 
deeper shade of night. Interviews of this kind are the sub- 
It 


258 tfOTES ON MAY. 

jects of many of the Scottish songs, some of the most beautiful 
of which Burns has imitated or improved." — Remarks, bV. by 
Dr Currie. 


Note IL 

In moorland farms, the season now invites 
Him, who would change the heath-flower for the pea f 
To draw his drains both deep and broad, with sides 
Of easy slope. P. 83. 

The mode of converting peat-moss into fertile fields, as 
.practised by Mr Smith of Swinridge-moor, who led the way 
in this species of improvement, or at least first communicated 
it to the public, is described by Mr Headrick, in a communi- 
cation to the Board of Agriculture. The following are ex. 
tracts from that communication : 

" When they enter upon the improvement of a moss in its 
natural state, the first thing to be done is, to mark and cut 
main or master drains, eight feet in width, by four and a half 
in depth, and declining to two and a half at bottom ; these 
cost a shilling per fall of Scots ells. In some instances, it will 
be found necessary to cut those drains much deeper, conse- 
quently at a greater expence. These drains, almost in every 
instance, can be, and are so conducted, as to divide the field into 
regular and proper inclosures. They always make it a rule to 
finish off as much of a drain as they have broken up, before they 
leave it at night ; because if a part is left dug, suppose half- 


NOTES ON MAY. 259 

way, the oozing of water from the sides would render the 
bottom so soft, that they could neither stand upon it, nor lift 
it with the spade. When the moss is so very soft, that the 
pressure of what is thrown out of the drain may cause its sides 
to fall in again, they throw the clods from the drain a consi- 
derable way back, and sometimes have a man to throw them 
still further back, by a spade or the hand; for this reason, 
too, they always throw the stuff taken from a drain as equally 
as possible on each side of it. In digging the drains, the 
workmen stand upon small boards, to prevent them from sink- 
ing, and move them forward as the work advances. 

" When the moss lies in a hollow, with only one outlet, it 
is necessary to lead up a drain, so as to let the water pass this 
outlet, and then conduct it along the lowest or wettest part 
of the moss : this middle drain is afterwards sloped, and the 
stuff thrown back into the hollows that may occur ; upon it 
the ridges are made to terminate on each side, while a ring- 
drain, serving the purpose of a fence, is thrown round the 
moss, at the line where the rising ground commences. This 
can generally be so managed, as to divide the moss into a 
square field, leaving straight lines for the sides of the conti- 
guous fields. The ring-drain intercepts the surface-water from 
the higher grounds, and conducts it into the lower part of the 
outlet, while the sloped drain in the centre receives and dis- 
charges all the water that falls upon the moss." 

****** 

11 The drains being thus completed, they mark out the 
ridges, either with a long string, or with three poles set in a 
line. Mr Smith has tried several breadths of ridges, but now 
gives a decided preference to those that are seven yards hi 


260 NOTES ON .MAY, 

breadth. The ridges are formed with the spade in the follow- 
ing manner : In the centre of each intended ridge, a space of 
about two feet is allowed to remain untouched ; on each side 
of that space a furrow is opened, which is turned over so as 
completely to cover that space, like what is called 'veering or 
feering of a gathered ridge ; the work, thus begun, is conti- 
nued by cutting furrows with the spade, and turning them 
over from end to end of the ridge on each side, until they ar- 
rive at the division-furrows. The breadth of the slices thus 
cut may be about 12 inches, and each piece is made as long as 
it may suit to turn over. The ridge, when finished, has the 
appearance of having been done with a plough. The division- 
furrow is tw r o feet in breadth, which, if necessary to draw off 
-superfluous water, is partly cut and thrown upon the sides, or 
into hollows in the ridges on each side. The depth of the 
divisions-furrows is regulated by circumstances, so as not to lay 
the ridges at first too dry, but at the same time to bleed, as it 
were, the moss, and conduct the superfluous water into the 
master drains. 

" The next operation is to top-dress the ridges with lime, 
The sooner this is done after the ridges are formed, the better. 
When the moss appears dry, experienced farmers throw on the 
Jime, but do not clean out the division-furrows until the en- 
suing winter. When it is soaked in water, they clean the 
division-furrows as soon as the lime is ready, and after the 
water has' run off, apply the lime immediately. It is of great 
importance to have the lime applied while the moss is stilV 
moist, and the lime in as caustic a state as possible." 


SsOTES ON MAY. 261 


Note III. 


-But man j 


When forced his dwelling-place to leave, the fields 
Which he and his forefathers ploughed. — P. 85. 

These who consider the soil in no other light than as a com- 
modity which may be manufactured into corn or cattle, u e. 
into pounds, shillings, and pence, affect to sneer at the very 
statement of the question, whether the system of large or 
small farms is preferable. I am well aware, that any legisla- 
tive interference, either with trade or agriculture, is apt to do 
more harm than good. At the same time, I can never see the 
propriety of an undeviating application of the laisse% faire 
principle. That principle is only a good one when it is ob- 
served throughout. On such a subject as this, however, my 
judgment will be of little weight. I will, therefore, refer to 
the opinion of a man who was no visionary. His ideas appear 
to me to be so just, and to have so obvious a tendency to pro= 
mote the comfort and happiness of the people, that I think 
they cannot be too often repeated and insisted on. 

" I proceed to an interesting article, which is, to compare 
great and small farms in point of utility. I call a small farm 
what employs but a single plough ; and a smaller there ought 
not to be. A middling farm is what requires, two ploughs ; 
and whatever requires a greater number, I call a great farm. 
These different farms I shall consider with respect to the land- 


•262 NOTES ON MAY. 

lord, with respect to the tenant, and with respect^ to the 
public. 

" With respect to the landlord, there are advantages and 
disadvantages that tend to balance each other. Small farms 
draw the greatest number of candidates ; which cannot fail 
to raise the rents. On the other hand, small farms occasion a 
great expence for houses ; and in a country where building 
materials are costly, large farms may appear to be the interest 
of the landlord. 

" With respect to tenants, a farm as large as can be accu- 
rately managed, is undoubtedly the interest of a tenant, pro- 
vided he have a fund for stocking the farm sufficiently. But 
this is really saying no more, but that it is beneficial to have a 
large fund. The proper question is, Whether, with respect to 
farmers in general, it is not a convenience to have the choice 
of small or great farms, according to their stock ? In that 
view, small farms are undoubtedly advantageous to those who 
want to be farmers ; because, in Scotland at least, the number 
is much greater of those who can stock a small farm, than of 
those who can go farther. It may possibly be objected, that 
there is an inconvenience in a small farm, where two horses 
only are necessary for a plough, in respect that two horses 
make but a slow progress in carrying corn or dung. To this 
objection there is a ready answer : Two horses in two single 
carts will make as much expedition in carrying out the dung, 
or carrying in the corn of a small farm, as double that number 
will make in a middling farm, where the dung and corn are 
double in quantity. I say further, that if two horses be not 
sufficient, the defect may be readily supplied by two draught 
oxen, which add very little to the expence of the farm. These* 


NOTES ON MAY. 263 

at four years of age, may be purchased for 10 1. They will 
give, at seven, 151. ; and this profit, with no more work than 
sufficient to give them a stomach, will balance their summer 
food of green clover. Their winter food of straw cannot enter 
into the computation, being the very best way of converting 
straw into dung. Here there is a great convenience. Where 
a field, by drought or otherwise, is rendered too stiff for a 
pair, the oxen may be yoked in the plough with the horses. 
In ground less stiff, the farmer has a choice of two oxen and 
a horse, of two horses alone, or of two oxen. Where plough* 
ing happens to be retarded by bad weather, two ploughs may 
be employed, which is a signal convenience. Ploughing, also. 
and harrowing, may go on at the same time ; and the farmer 
has it always in his power to yoke two double carts. Even m 
carse-soil this plan will answer ; as there is seldom occasion to 
employ the oxen but where the ground is sufficiently dry fur 
them. 

" With respect to the public, small farms are undoubtedly 
the most advantageous, The number of servants, it is true. 
must be in proportion to the size of the farm ; but in a mid- 
dling farm there is but one tenant ; whereas in two small 
farms of no greater extent, there are two. And the difference 
is still greater in large farms. This is a capital circumstance. 
The children of tenants are taught to read and write ; and, 
in general, are better educated than children of day-labourer?, 
which qualifies them better for being artists and manufac- 
turers. They are also commonly more numerous, being better 
nourished during non-age, and better preserved from diseases. 
Small farms, accordingly, are net only favourable to popula.- 
turn, but to the most useful population. I would not there- 


2t5d N-OTiSS ON MAY. 

fore indulge willingly any farm beyond a middle size. And.. 
to check those of a large size, I am clear for a tax of 3l. or 
4 1. yearly upon every farm that requires three ploughs ; and 
so on, according to the number. I except proprietors, who 
ought to be encouraged to improve their estates : let- them 
employ as many ploughs as they find convenient, and not be 
subjected to any tax. If any undertaker be willing to lay out 
a large sum of money upon farming, the profit of a long lease 
will enable him to pay the tax. This tax at the same time 
may be so contrived, as to answer a valuable purpose, that of 
exciting farmers to use oxen instead of horses ; which will be 
done by exempting oxen-ploughs from the tax. And the un- 
dertaker mentioned will be relieved from the tax altogether, 
if he employ such ploughs only." 

Lord Kames's Gentleman Farmer* p. 27£, 


NOTES' ON JUNE. 


£Tote L 


-Let us be taught 


By them ; by Nature lengthening out our day 

To twice ten hours,— and labour in the cool — P. 94. 

At Midsummer the sun is above the horizon eighteen hours 
and a half, and there is good day-light an hour and a quarter 
before sunrise, and as long after sunset. The day may there- 
fore be said to be 20 hours long at this season. In choosing 
ten or twelve hours for labour out of these twenty, why, from 
a habit which suits the cooler seasons of the year, should the 
Very worst portion of the day be pitched upon ? 


NOTES ON JUNE. 


Note II. 


Why, 'twixt the bean-fieW s marshalled ra?iks i is left 

Free space for air and sun; a?id -juhy the spikes 

Of bearded grain -wave equal o'er the plain. P. 96. 

At one time the drill husbandry was often applied even to 
grain crops, but now it is going into disuse. Indeed, there 
is an obvious reason for confining this mode of husbandry to 
those kinds of plants which derive, through the medium of 
their broad leaves, a very great proportion of t'heir nourish- 
ment from the atmosphere, or which bear their product on 
the lower as well as the upper parts of their stems. The 
leaves of beans are broad, and both they and the blossoms ap- 
pear a considerable way down the stalk. The free admission, 
therefore, of the air and of the sun-beams, for the purposes of 
growth and ripening, is peculiarly necessary to them. The 
different species of corn, on the other hand, derive, compara- 
tively speaking, a small portion of their nourishment from the 
air, and their seed presents itself all at the top of the stalk. 
It is obvious, therefore, that the broad-cast mode of sowing in- 
most suitable to them, and experience has proved tl 


fciOTES UN JUNE. 


Note III. 


-Some the hoe prefer. 


Which female hands, or, if of lighter make, 
The childish grasp can wield. P. 97. 

44 It is generally supposed that a weightier crop is produced 
by the drill than by the broad-cast method ; but, even ad- 
mitting them equal in this respect, the superiority as a fallow- 
crop must be allowed, because, by the repeated horse-hoeings 
or ploughings in the intervals, and hand-hoeing in the rows, 
you have it in your power to extirpate the whole race of ani- 
mal weeds, and so much surface being exposed through the 
winter, makes a higher preparation for any succeeding crop. 
Another advantage is, the facility with which they are hoed ; 
as a girl or boy of nine years old can hoe them with the 
greatest ease, and indeed generally better than experienced 
broad-cast hoers ; because these are more apt to take too many 
away, and leave them over-thin in the rows, while the young 
ones, from the apprehension of hoeing them too thin, will 
leave the plants at any distance you fix upon." 

Young's Farmer's Calendar, p. 331. 

The use of the plough as well as of the hoe, in drill-hus- 
bandry, is as old as the days of Virgil, They seem, how- 
ever, to have been employed chiefly in the cultivation of the 
vine : 


26S NOTES ON JUNE. 

" Seminibus positis, superest deducere terram 
Ssepius ad capita, et duros jactare bidentes ; 
Aut presso exercere solum sub vomere, et ipsa 
Flectere luctantes inter vineta juvencos : 

Geor. ii. 1. 354. 

ft Be mindful when thou hast entombed the shoot, 
With store of earth around to feed the root ; 
With iron teeth of rakes and prongs, to move 
The crusted earth, and loosen it above. 
Then exercise thy sturdy steers to plough 
Betwixt thy vines."——* Dryden. 


Note IV. 

If o'er your leas the yellow ragwort spread 
A gaudy forest. P. 97. 

In many parts of Scotland, the pasture-fields are covered 
with large, and consequently exhausting, crops of these 
weeds, which are allowed to blossom, ripen, and disperse 
their down-winged seed. I believe they are triennial plants, 
so that cutting them down for three years will extirpate 
them. It is hardly necessary to say, that cutting them down 
in time would serve the double purpose of freeing the ground 
from a nuisance,, and of making a valuable addition to the 
dunghill. 


NOTES ON JUNE. . 2f9 


Note V. 


Others again, whatever the grassy crop, 
If one day's sun they gain, no longer trust 
The fickle sky, but rear the verdant cock 
Of size diminutive, i?c. P. 106. 

On the subject of haymaking, the following mode described 
by Br James Anderson appears from the nature of the thing 
to be so judicious, and its advantages are pointed out in the 
course of the description, in a manner so simple and convinc- 
ing, that it ought to be universally known. 

" Instead (says he) of allowing the hay to lie, as usual in 
most places, for some days in the swathe, after it is cut, and 
afterwards alternately putting it up into cocks, and spread- 
ing it out, and tedding it in the sun, which tends greatly to 
bleach the hay, exhales its natural juices, and subjects it 
very much to the danger of getting rain, and thus runs a 
great risk of being good for little ; I make it a general rule, 
if possible, never to cut hay but when the grass is quite dry ; 
and then make the gatherers follow close upon the cutters, 
putting it up immediately into small cocks, about three feet 
high each when new put up, and of as small a diameter as 
they can be made to stand with ; always giving each of them 
a slight kind of thatching, by drawing a few handfuls of the 
hay from the bottom of the cock all around, and laying it 
lightly upon the top with one of the ends hanging down- 


270 NOTES ON JUNF. 

wards. This is done with the utmost ease and expedition ; 
and when it is once in that state, I consider my hay as in a 
great measure out of danger : for unless a violent wind should 
arise immediately after the cocks are put up, so as to overturn 
them, nothing else can hurt the hay ; as I have often expe- 
rienced that no rain, however violent, ever penetrates into 
these cocks but for a very little way ; and, if they are dry 
put up, they never sit together so closely as to heat ; although 
they acquire, in a day or two, such a degree of firmness, as to 
be in no danger of being overturned by wind after that time, 
unless it blows a hurricane." 

" In these cocks I allow the hay to remain, until, upon 
inspection, I judge that it will keep in pretty large tramp- 
cocks, (which is usually in one or two weeks, according as 
the weather is more or less favourable), when two men, each 
with a long-pronged pitch-fork, lift up one of these small 
cocks between them with the greatest ease, and carry them 
one after another to the place where the tramp-cock is to be 
built : and in this manner they proceed over the field till the 
whole is finished." Essays on Agriculture, Vol. i. p. 186, 


Note VL 

Beneath whose boughs the royal tent was stretched. — P. 11Q. 

" The king of Scots appointed a general rendezvous of his 
forces at the Torwood, between Falkirk and Stirling." 

Hailes. 


NOTES ©N JUNE, 271 

Note VII. 

He passes by the memorable stone, > P. 110. 

The stone in vrhich Bruce fixed his standard is still to 
"be seen. 


NOTES ON JULY. 


Note I. 

Though rarely prized by husbandmen, whose bound.. 

Embrace a widely-spread domain. — P. 116. 

" Farmers of every rank will find their advantage in keep- 
ing bee-hives, in proportion to the extent of the flowers that 
grow upon their farms ; as one single acre planted with tur- 
nips, mustard, clover, or heath, will feed many hives. Even 
the meanest cottager, who has but a cottage and a kail-yard, 
might keep two or three hives, and sow a little mustard and 
turnips, or plant a few gooseberry bushes, on purpose to feed 
bees. There is scarce a country village in the kingdom, that 
might not afford to keep as many bee-hives as there are dwell- 
ing-houses in it ; nor a tradesman in such a village, who mighs 
not easily keep as many hives as he has hands employed in 
business. Even servants might have a few hives kept as their 
own property, in the gardens of their parents, brothers, or 
friends. In short, persons of all ranks and degrees, from the 
king to the cottager, might be profitably employed, or agree- 
ably amused, by keeping bee-hives," 


NOTES ON JULY. 273 

" I am quite certain, and some others have often told me 
that they were of the same opinion, that the melodious hum- 
ming of bees, when busy at work, or sporting in the air for 
their own amusement, will have such an effect upon the ani- 
mal spirits, that, how r ever chagrined or ruffled the temper of 
a person might be, before he takes a walk among his bees, he 
generally does not withdraw till the mind enjoys a perfect 
calm and inward tranquillity." Bonnar on Bees* 


Note II, 


-The jangling pan 


Essayed in vain to stop the living cloud, — P. 118, 

This practice is very ancient ; 

w Tinnitusque cie, et matris quate cymbala circum.* 5 

Georg. iv. L 63, 

Note III, 

A tempting seat, a blossoming abode*— — P. 119. 

n Obriaque hospitiis teneat frondentibus arbos," 

Georg, ir, 1, 24. 


274? NOTES ON JULY, 


Note IV. 


But none of all the flowery tribes affords 
Supplies so plentiful of honey lymph. P. 121* 

" Whenever a honey dew is found, the bees are so extreme- 
ly eager to fetch it, that they quit all other work, that their 
returns may be the quicker and more numerous ; and lest a 
gloomy change should deprive them of the precious prize. 
No harvest swain, dreading impending storms, can be more 
anxious or expeditious in hastening the housing of his crops, 
than these aerial tribes in this their delightful office ; so much 
so, that thronging in too great numbers at the door, they 
jostle and tumble each other down. And smarting woe to 
those who shall thoughtlessly stand in their way at this im- 
portant crisis ! Their joy on these occasions is expressed in 
such incessant and loud notes, as to be heard at a great dis- 
tance. By these tokens it may be known, that there is a 
honey dew, without seeing the trees from which they gather 
it* i. Key. 


NOTES ON JULY. 275 


Note V. 


-The light precursors fly, 


Like warping midges on a summer's eve, 
In reeling dance, bV. P. 121. 

" If the bees, about eleven o'clock a. m. fly about in a 
reeling manner, making a noise and motion about the front of 
the hive, all these are signs to put the bee-master on his 
guard, and to prepare him for the joyful event that is fast ap- 
proaching, of a young colony within a day or two, or even, 
perhaps, within an hour or two. But if the bees, after all 
this, run hastily up and down the outside of the hive, and at 
last gather together in a cluster upon the stool, he may call 
his friends together, to behold his increasing store, as he may 
depend that they will swarm immediately." Bqnnar. 

" Before bees swarm the second or third time, they do not 
lie out in clusters about the hive, or upon the stool ; but as 
soon as they are ready, they come off in a body, even in 
weather that is by no means favourable. The signs, when 
these after-swarms will come off, are mpre certain than those 
that precede the first swarming ; for, if the weather be good, 
one may almost prognosticate the very hour. By listening at 
night to the sound of a hive, about eight, ten, or twelve days 
after the first swarm is gone off, that peculiar sound, common- 
ly called tolling, will be easily distinguished. This sound 
seems to be the royal proclamation issued by the young prin- 


2T« NOTES ON JULY- 

cess, to warn, or rather to invite, her fellow-emigrants to 
prepare for their intended journey. It sounds, says one, as if 
the words peep ! peep ! peep ! were rapidly pronounced fifteen 
or twenty times in half a minute. She then stops, and begins 
again repeatedly, like a chicken peeping for its mother, when 
it has lost her." — — Bonnar. 


Note VI. 

— Haste, spread the sheet, and lay 

Two rods of mountain-ash along, l£c. P. 122. 

" As soon as they alight on any thing, that can easily be 
brought to the ground, such as the small branch of a tree, or 
a berry-bush, or the like, let a sheet be spread on the ground 
near the swarm, and two sticks placed upon it, a foot asunder. 
Then place the swarm upon the sheet, between the sticks, and 
gently cover it with a hive, resting the edges of the hive upon 
the sticks, to prevent it from crushing any of the bees ; who 
will thus have free air, and access to and from the hive, which 
must be covered with a cloth, to prevent the rays of the sun 
from scorching the bees, and provoking them to rise and seek 
out a more comfortable habitation. . If their new lodging 
pleases them, they will take immediate possession, and fall to 
work with alacrity." Bonnar. 


NOTES ON JULY. 277 


Note VII. 


-Closely they entomb 


In catacomb ', as in his pristine shell. P. 123. 

I never witnessed this circumstance myself. I state it on 
the authority of a lady, whose veracity is as unquestionable as 
her genius. 


Note VIII.. 

When Summer's blow of flowers begins to fade, 
Some to the moorlands bear their hives, to cull 
The treasures of the heat Jibe IL P. 123. 

" About Lammas, those who live in situations where the 
vegetation is early over, especially if possessed of a large num- 
ber of hives, ought to remove their bees to the neighbourhood 
of heath grounds, if they should even be six or eight miles 
distant, and allow them to continue in that situation till the 
heath gives over blossoming. This measure I would earnestly 
recommend, as the bees, after having had all the advantage 
of their early situations, will work as late in the season as 
those in the latest situations. I have often seen a hive, by 
being placed nigh heath, become ten, twelve, or fifteen pounds 
heavier in the month of August ; whereas if it had remained 
in its original early situation, it would probably have become 


273 NOTES ON JULY. 

every day lighter after Lammas. The only risk in this case is, 
that if the weather turn out bad in August, the bee-master 
will lose all his trouble ; but contingencies of this kind happen 
in every other business in which mankind engage ; which, 
nevertheless, do not deter us from adventuring." 

" I can assure my readers, that, in the middle of Septem- 
ber 1792, I have seen bees in such situations, filling their 
hives with combs and honey, as plentifully and as expeditiously 
as if it had been the middle of June. In the beginning of Sep- 
tember that year, I purchased, for a gentleman in Northumber- 
land, a considerable number of hives, that were only about 
half full of combs when placed in his apiary ; but the heath 
in his grounds being extremely rich and in full blossom, the 
bees were so expeditious in their labours, that they filled the 
hives completely with both combs and honey, within a week 
thereafter." — Bonnar. 


Note IX. 

If e'er disease assail the humming race. — P. 125. 

This and the twenty-five subsequent lines are, with some 
variations, a translation of the passage in the 4th Georgic, be- 
ginning with the lines, 

Si vero, quoniam casus apibus quoque nostros 
Vita tulit, tristi languebunt corpora morbo. 

1. 250, 251. 


NOTES ON JULY. 279 

As a curiously bad specimen of what, notwithstanding the 
high name of the translator, I hold to be a very miserable 
translation, I will here add Dryden's version of the passage 
alluded to : 

" But since they share with man one common fate, 

In health and sickness, and in turns of state ; 

Observe the symptoms when they fall away, 

And languish with insensible decay. 

They change their hue, with haggard eyes they stare, 

Lean are their looks, and shagged is their hair* 

And crowds of dead that never must return ^ 

To their loved hives, in decent pomp are borne ; > 

Their friends attend the hearse, the next relations mourn- j 

The sick for air, before the portal, gasp, 

Their feeble legs within each other clasp ; 

Or idle in their empty hives remain, 

Benumb'd with cold, and listless of their gaim 

Soft whispers then, and broken sounds are heard. 

As when the woods by gentle winds are stirred. 

Such stifled noise as the close furnace hides, 

Or dying murmurs of departing tides. 

This when thou see'st, Galbanean odours use, 

And honey in the sickly hive infuse. 

Through reeden pipes convey the golden flood, 

T' invite the people to their wonted food, 

Mix it with thickened juice of sodden wines, 

And raisins from the grapes of Psythian vines : 

To these add pounded galls, and roses dry, 

And with Cecropian thyme, strong-scented centaury, 


280 NOTES ON JULY. 

A flower there is, that grows on meadow-ground, 
Amellus called, and easy to be found ; 
For from one root the rising stem bestows 
A wood of leaves, and vi'let purple boughs : 
The flower itself is glorious to behold, 
And shines on altars like refulgent gold : 
Sharp to the taste, by shepherds near the stream 
Of Mella found, and thence they gave the name ; 
Boil this restoring root in gen'rous wine, 
And set beside the door, the sickly stock to dine" 


. . Note X. 

And did the sage, whose powerful genius shed 

A flood of light, where only glimmering rays, &c. — P. 127. 

Till Dr Currie of Liverpool published his book on Fevers, 
the external application of cold water, as a remedy in fevers, 
was used with a very timid hand. If he was not absolutely 
the discoverer of this remedy, he was at least the first physi- 
cian who discovered the proper modes and times of its applica- 
tion, and who demonstrated, by a series of observations, and 
a train of ingenious and conclusive argument, that it was 
equally safe and efficacious. 


NOTES ON AUGUST. 


Note I; 

Sweet is the falling of the single voice. 

And sweet the joining of the choral swell — P. 1 3?. 

" Such have I heard, in Scottish land. 
Rise from the busy harvest band, 
When falls before the mountaineer, 
On lowland plains, the ripened ear. 
Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, 
Now a wild chorus swells the song : 
Oft have I listened, and stood still, 
As it came softened up the hill, 
And deemed it the lament of men 
Who languished for their native glen ; 
And thought, how sad would be such sound. 
On Susquehanna's swampy ground, 
Kentucky's wood-encumbered brake, 
Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, 
Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, 
Recalled fair Scotland's hills again '." 

Makmion. 


NOTES ON AUGUST. 


Note II. 


-A mildew creeps 
Along the wheaten ridge, blighting the ears ; 
Haste, then, the sickle urge, fcfo- P. 137. 

w Be very attentive to the wheat crops this month : they 
are every where liable to this fatal distemper, which admits 
but of one cure or check, and that is, reaping it as soon as it 
is struck. The capital managers in Suffolk know well, that 
every hour the wheat stands after the mildew appears is mis- 
chievous to the crop. It should be cut, though quite green, 
as it is found that the grain tills after it is cut, and ripens in a 
manner that those would not conceive who have not tried the 
experiment, which I have done many times ; reaping so early, 
that the labourers pronounced I should have nothing but hens 
meat. They were always mistaken, for the sample proved 
good, while others, who left it longer," suffered severely. 
The fact is now pretty generally known and admitted." 

Young's Farmer's Calendar , 


tfOTES ON AUGUST. 26S 


Note III. 


No sign of gathering storms, both wind and rain. 
Is surer than the sea-fowl 9 s inland flight**—?. 138, 

w Quura medio celeres revolant ex sequore mergi." 

Georg. iv. 1. 361. 


-" The cormorant on high 


Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land." 

Thomson, 


Note IV. 

How richly fraught with vegetable food 

The stream subsides upon the deluged plain. — P. 14 L 


Quique paludis 


Collectum humorem bibula dcducit arena, 
Prsesertim incertis si mensibus amnis abundans 
Exit, et obducto late tenet omnia limo, 
Unde cavge tepido sudant humore lacunae ?" 

Georg. i. 1. 113, 

M And drains the standing waters, when they yield 
Too large a beverage to the drunken field. 


2Si NOTES ON AUGUST. 

But most in autumn, and the showery spring, 
When dubious months uncertain weather bring ; 
When fountains open, when impetuous rain 
Swells hasty brooks, and pours upon the plain ; 
When earth with slime and mud is covered o'er, 
Or hollow places spew their watery store." 

Dhyden's Translation* 

The different ways in which a farmer may avail himself 
of the earthy substances deposited by rivers are various, ac- 
cording to the situation and form of his grounds. For a de- 
scription of -varping, or the art of embanking rivers into 
which the tide flows, in such a manner as to retain the deposit 
of the spring tides, I refer the reader to the head Warping, 
under the article Agriculture, in the Edinburgh Encyclopaedia. 
On the banks of rivers where warping cannot be practised, 
the methods which I have hinted at in the text may, perhaps, 
be found useful in securing a part of that fertilizing deposit 
which almost every overflowing river leaves. 


[Note V. 


' Every sluggish ditch, 

And stagnant puddle, during summer heats, 
Is bottomed with a fertilizing layer.— -P. 141. 

" This (the oleaning out of ponds) is a part of husbandry 
too much neglected by many farmers ; but advantage should 
always be taken of it by a good husbandman, when he is 


NOTES ON AUGUST, 285 

lucky enough to succeed a great sloven ; for then he will pro- 
bably find all ponds, &,c. full of rich mud. 

" It is improbable that pond mud, especially if there is a 
stream into the water, should ever fail of proving a good 
manure, when judiciously used." 

Young's Farmer's Calendar. 


Note VI. 

Britannia^ to thy richest treasures blind, 
Treasures that teem in river, frith, and seas- 
Why sleep thy laws P P. 143. 

The theme of the British, and especially the Scottish fish- 
eries, though thoroughly hacknied, is nevertheless a most im- 
portant one. It is not the less important, that the opinions 
of writers on political economy, and the firm conviction of 
the people at large, have produced little else than neglect on 
the part of Government, or, what is worse, a mixture of wise 
and foolish regulations, in which the foolish greatly preponde- 
rate. The most neglected spot of the British dominions is the 
Shetland and Orkney isles. For a description of the miser- 
able and grinding vassalage under which the inhabitants (who 
are almost all fishermen) of these islands exist, I refer the 
reader to a Tour through some of these islands by Mr Patrick 
Neill. In this little book, which was violently, but impotent- 
Iy, attacked by some of the Shetland landholders, or rather 
slave-holders, there is a great deal of useful information, to 
which it would be well if some attention were paid by those 


236 NOTES ON AUGUST. 

who have the power to rectify abuses. While the conquest 
of a pestilential island on the other side of the Atlantic costs 
the nation thousands of lives, and millions of money, the 
northern and western islands of Scotland, which are demon- 
strated to be encircled with a rich and inexhaustible mine of 
national wealth and strength, lie almost neglected. The 
sums applied out of the prices of the forfeited estates, towards 
the improvement of the fisheries, are a mere sprinkling, a 
drop in the bucket. To do any good, extensive tracts of the 
islands, and of the shores of the Highland mainland, ought to 
be purchased by Government, on the same principles, and 
according to the same regulations, as lands are purchased for 
canals or roads. These domains ought to be parcelled out in 
small portions of two or three acres, more or less according 
to the quality of the ground ; a small house should be erected 
on each parcel, and these little properties should be green in 
perpetuity to tenants or cottars, who have been turned out 
of their possessions. The way to make the seas productive 
is to make the shores populous ; and for this purpose nothing 
can be so effectual as encouraging settlers with a gift of land. 
All other bounties are useless. If some such plan had been 
adopted twenty years ago, the miserable exiles from the 
Highlands and islands, instead of being under the necessity of 
transporting themselves to America, or indenting themselves 
at cottonmills, would have been covering the shores of their 
native country with a happy and virtuous population. As to 
expence, the cost of one of our expeditions would have de- 
frayed it ten times over. 


NOTES ON AUGUST, 287 

Note VII. 

How sweet, o'er Scotia's hill-encircled seas.— "P. 144. 

" Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode,. 
To his hills that encircle the sea." 

Campbell. 


© 


NOTES ON SEPTEMBER, 


Note I. 


-While they draw, 


Close to the ground, the sickle, ifc. P. 14$. 

The advantage of cutting close is obvious: but the extent 
©f the advantage is not always duly estimated. An inch is 
the 24th part of a stal^ two feet in height. Of course, every 
inch that is saved by close cutting adds on a field (the stalk of 
which is, on an average, two feet in height) a 24th part 
more straw. Three inches saved would make an addition of 
one threave in eight. Besides, the lower part of the stalk k- 
the thickest, as well as the most succulent. 


Note II. 

A row of forked stakes draw cross the field, t^r.— P. 15§. 

In the Highlands, where the rain sometimes falls without 
intermission for a fortnight or three weeks, drying-house». 


NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 289 

like those at Inveraray, may be useful. But wherever there 
are fair intervals now and then, the process of drying may be 
performed more effectually, rapidly, and cheaply, in the open 
air, than in drying-houses. It is obvious, that in any house, 
however open it may be laterally r , though the current of air 
passing through it may seem to be more violent than the 
wind on the outside, yet, as the corn placed in it must be 
completely covered by the roof, the evaporation cannot be 
there so quick as in the open air. In a drying-house, com- 
pletely roofed, and partially covered at the sides, sifting 
winds will be felt ; but under the canopy of the sky, where 
the evaporating moisture is carried off upward as well as ho- 
rizontally, an hour of fair weather will do more to dry a sheaf 
of com, than two hours of the sifting winds of a drying- 
house. As to the expence of the mode of suspending the 
sheaves in the open air, there can be no doubt that it would 
be very trifling. 


Note III. 


-0 grand empri%e ! generous boon ' 


That little book to Scotia'' s farthest isles, 
' In each low cottage, comfort speaks and peace.— T?. 153. 

The translation of the Bible into the Gaelic language is a 

work which does honour to t^e present age ; and yet the 

undertaking appears at one time to have been opposed by 

some of the members of the Society for the Propagation of 

T 


298 NOTES ON SEPTEMBt?. 

the Gospel. The spirit which must have dictated this op 
oosition, and which still opposes the diffusion of the means 
of knowledge to the lower orders of society, is so admirably 
exposed by Dr Johnson, in a letter recorded by Mr Boswell, 
that I will here quote it. " It is addressed (Mr Boswell men- 
tions) to the late Mr William Drummond, bookseller in Edin- 
burgh, a gentleman of good family but small estate, who took 
arms for the house of Stuart in 1745 ; and during his conceal- 
ment in London, till the act of general pardon came out, ob- 
tained the acquaintance of Dr Johnson, who justly esteemed 
him as a very worthy man." It is as follows : 

" Sir— I did not expect to hear that it could be, in an as- 
sembly convened for the propagation of Christian knowledge, 
a question, Whether any nation, uninstructed in religion, 
should receive instruction ? or, whether that instruction should 
be imparted to them by a translation of the holy books into 
their own language ? If obedience to the will of God be ne- 
cessary to happiness, and knowledge of his will be necessary 
to obedience, I know not how he that withholds this know- 
ledge, or delays it, can be said to love his neighbour as him- 
self. He, that voluntarily continues in ignorance, is guilty of 
all the crimes that ignorance produces ; as to him, that should 
extinguish the tapers of a lighthouse, might justly be imputed 
the calamities of shipwrecks. Christianity is the highest per- 
fection of humanity ; and as no man is good but as he wishes 
the good of others, no man can be good in the highest degree, 
who wishes not to others the largest measure of the greatest 
good. To omit for a year, or for a day, the most efficacious 
method of advancing Christianity, in compliance with any 


NOTES ON SETTEM BE R. 291 

purposes that terminate on this side of the grave, is a crime of 
which I know not that the world has yet had an example, 
except in the practice of the planters of America, a race of 
mortals whom, I suppose, no other man wishes to resemble. 

" The Papists have indeed denied to the laity the use of the 
Bible ; but this prohibition, in few places now very rigorously 
enforced, is defended by arguments which have for their foun- 
dation the care of souls. To obscure, upon motives merely 
political, the light of revelation, is a practice reserved for the 
reformed ; and surely the blackest midnight of Popery is me- 
ridian sunshine to such a reformation. I am not very willing 
that any language should be totally extinguished. The simi- 
litude and derivation of languages afford the most indubitable 
proof of the traduction of nations and the gene?Jogy of man- 
kind. They add often physical certainty to historical evidence ; 
and often supply the only evidence of ancient migrations, and 
of the revolutions of ages which left no written monuments 
behind them. 

" Every man's opinions, at least his desires, are a little in- 
fluenced by his favourite studies. My zeal for languages may 
seem, perhaps, rather overheated, even to those by whom I 
desire to be well esteemed. To those who have nothing in 
their thoughts but trade or policy, present power, or present 
money, I should not think it necessary to defend my opinions ; 
but with men of letters I would not unwillingly compound, 
by wishing the continuance of every language, however nar- 
row in its extent, or however uncommodious for common pur- 
poses, till it is reposited in some version of a known book, that 
it may be always hereafter examined and compared with other 
languages, and then permitting its disuse. For this purpose 


292 NOTES ON SEPTEMBER. 

the translation of the Bible is most to be desired. It is nor. 
certain that the same method will not preserve the Highland 
language, for the purposes of learning, and abolish it from 
daily use. When the Highlanders read the Bible, they will 
naturally wish to have its obscurities cleared, and to know the 
history collateral or appendant. Knowledge always desires 
increase ; it is like fire, which must first be kindled by some 
external agent, but which will afterwards propagate itself. 
When they once desire to learn, they will naturally have re- 
course to the nearest language by which that desire can be 
gratified ; and one will tell another, that if he would attain 
knowledge, he must learn English. 

" This speculation may perhaps be thought more subtle 
than the grossness of real life will easily admit. Let it, how- 
ever, be remembered, that the efficacy of ignorance has been 
long tried, and has not produced the consequence expected. 
Let knowledge therefore take its turn ; and let the patrons of 
privation stand awhile aside, and admit the operation of po- 
sitive principles. 

" You will be pleased, sir, to assure the worthy man who 
is employed in the new translation, that he has my wishes for 
his success ; and if here, or at Oxford, I can be of any use, 
that I shall think it more than honour to promote his under- 
taking. I am, Sec." 


NOTES ON OCTOBER. 


Note I. 


-Hoiv ceaseless is the round 


Cf rural labour ! soon as on the field, bfo— P. 167. 


■" Redit agricolis labor actus in orbera, 


Atque in se sua per vestigia volvitur annus." 

Georg. iv. 1. 101. 


Note II. 

The bristled piny tribes, l?c. • P. 171. 

I have heard people talk of the foliage of the pine. Now 
to me it seems as absurd to give the prickles (or, as children 
very properly term them, the needles and pins) of fir-trees 
the name of leaves, as it would be to call the tops or cones, 
fruit. These prickles are, to be sure, all that the pine has 


294 NOTES ON OCTOBEE. 

for leaves ; but that does not make them leaves. Some Afri- 
can birds are covered entirely with hair; yet no one ever 
thought of calling that hair feathers. For my own part, I 
think it would not be more absurd to talk of the plumage on 
the back of a hog, than it is to say that the branches of pines 
are clothed with foliage. 


Note III. 

Draw tJiem in rows along the bounding line. — P. 172, 

A hedge of closely planted firs is an excellent weather-fence 
for young plantations of white wood trees. It is from the 
lateral force of the wind that young trees require to be pro- 
tected. The freer they are all above, so much the better. In 
large plantations that are much exposed, bounding hedges of 
firs will not be sufficient. Crossing rows here and there may 
be necessary. Such rows do all that is necessary for sheltering 
plantations, while they have no tendency to stifle the trees of 
slower growth. It may here be observed, that a tree which 
has been marred or dwarfed in its growth, by being overtopped 
by other trees, very seldom recovers its health. It remains a 
poor ill-thriven plant. 


CHES OS OCTOBfc? 


Note IV. 


-_~-^_^^~~ _. — —Improvers, seme there arc. 
Enamoured of deformity and gloom, 
Who strangely deem they beautify the land- 
By planting woods of pine.- — ■ — P. 1T2. 

To persons infected with the mania for pines, the following 
observations, by one of the best judges of picturesque beauty, 
may be of use : 

" The trees which principally shewed themselves were 
larches ; and, from the multitude of their sharp points, the 
whole country appeared en herisson, and had much the same 
degree of resemblance to natural scenery, that one of the old 
military plans, with scattered platoons of spearmen, has to a 
print after Claude or Poussin. 

" A planter wishes very naturally to produce some ap- 
pearance of wood as soon as possible : He therefore sets his 
trees very close together ; and so they generally remain, for 
his paternal fondness will seldom allow him to thin them suf- 
ficiently. They are consequently all drawn up together, 
nearly to the same height ; and, as their heads touch each 
other, no variety, no distinction of form, can exist, but the 
whole is one enormous, unbroken, unvaried mass of black. 
Its appearance is so uniformly dead and heavy, that instead 


.NOTES ON OCTOBER. 

of those cheering ideas, which arise from the fresh and luxu- 
riant foliage, and the lighter tints of deciduous trees, it has 
something of that dreary image, that extinction of form an^ 
colour, which Milton felt from blindness ; when he, who had 
-d objects with a painter's eye, as he described them with 
a poet's fire, was 

" Presented with an universal blank 
Of Nature's works." 

It must be considered also, that the eye feels an impres- 

frcan objects analogous to that of weight, as appears from 

'he expression, a lieavy colour, a heavy form ; hence arises 

rte necessity, in all landscapes, of preserving a proper ba- 

: of both ; and this is a very principal part of the art 

of painting. If, in a picture, the one half were to be light 

and airy, both in the forms and in the tints, and the other 

one black heavy lump, the most ignorant person would 

ably be displeased (though he might not know upon 

t principle) with the want of balance, and of harmony ; 

for those harsh discordant effects not only act more forcibly 

from being brought together within a small compass, but 

also because, in painting, they are not authorised by fashion, 

or rendered familiar by custom." 

Price's Essay on the Picturesque. 


NOTES ON OCTOBER. 297 

Note V. 

And, with their poisonous drop, the primrose wan, fcta— P. 173. 

" The inside of these plantations fully answers to the 
dreary appearance of the outside. Of all dismal scenes, it 
seems to me the most likely for a man to hang himself in : 
he would, however, find some difficulty in the execution ; for, 
amidst the endless multitude of stems, there is rarely a single 
side-branch to which a rope could be fastened. The whole 
wood is a collection of tall naked poles, with a few ragged 
boughs near the top ;«— above, one uniform rusty cope, seen 
through decayed and decaying sprays and branches ;— fcelow, 
the soil parched and blasted with the baleful droppings ; hard- 
ly a plant or a blade of grass ; nothing that can give an 
idea of life or 'vegetation. Even its gloom is without solem- 
nity ; it is only dull and dismal, and what light there is, like 
that of hell, 

" Serves only to discover scenes of woe, 
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades.'* 

Price. 


298 NOTES ON OCTOBER. 


Note VI. 


-The alder, too, prefers 


A station dank. -P. 174, 

" There are a sort of husbands who take excessive pains 
in stubbing up their alders, wherever they meet them in the 
boggy places of their ground, with the same indignation as 
one would extirpate the most pernicious of weeds ; and when 
they have finished, know not how to convert their best lands 
to more profit than this (seeming despicable) plant might lead 
them to, were it rightly understood." 

Evelyn on Forest Trees, p. 99. 


Note VII. 
No tree bears transplantation like the elm, — P. 175. 

" Of all the trees which grow in our woods, there is none 
that does better suffer the transplantation than the elm ; for 
you may remove a tree of twenty years growth with undoubt- 
ed success." Evelyn. 

In transplantation, it is of great importance that the tree 
be placed precisely in the situation, with respect to the points 
of the compass, in which it stood before it was removed. This 
rule is spoken of by Lord Karnes, as proved by experience to 


NOTES ON OCTOBER. 299 

be useless. I would trust, however, as much to Virgil's opi- 
nion on trees, as to that of Lord Karnes, especially as he as- 
signs a good reason for the rule : 

" Quinetiarn cceli regionem in cortice signant, 
Ut quo quseque modo steterit, qua parte calores 
Austrinos tulerit, quae terga oberterit axr; 
Restituant : adeo in teneris consuescere multum est." 

Georg* ii. 1. 272 

" Beside, to plant it as it was, they mark 
The heavens' four quarters in the tender bark ; 
And to the north or south restore the side, 
Which at their birth did heat or cold abide : 
So strong is custom ; such effects can use 
In tender souls of pliant plants produce." 

Dryden's Translation* 

It is true that Virgil is here treating of vines ; but the 
reason of the thing is equally applicable to other trees ; and 
the practice as to trees in general is supported by the high 
authority of Evelyn : 

" For as the southern parts being more dilated, and the 
pores exposed (as evidently appears in their horizontal sec- 
tions) by the constant eccentricity of the hyperbolical circles 
of all trees, (save just under the equator, where the circles 
concentre, as we find in those hard woods which grow there), 
ours, being now on the sudden, and at such a season con- 
verted to the north, does starve and destroy more trees (how 


300 NOTES ON OCTOBER. 

careful soever men have been in ordering the roots, and pre- 
paring the ground), than any other accident whatsoever, ne- 
glect of staking and defending from cattle excepted." 

Evelyn, p. 31. 


Note VIII. 

And now they hear the woodland harvest home, 
And store it up for blythsome Hallowe'en P. 177. 

I hope I shall not be accused of presumption, in touching 
on a subject already so admirably and so fully treated by 
Burns. I conceived that a poem, partly descriptive of rural 
manners, would have been materially defective without some 
notice of Halloween ; and I am little moved by that sort of 
pride which shrinks from a contrast with unrivalled excellence. 
I pretend not to enter the lists with Burns ; but I do not con- 
sider, as sacred and unapproachable ground, every scene which 
he has immortalized in his poetic landscapes. 


Note IX. 

A few dim candles in derision shine 

Of Romish rites, now happily forgot. P, 178. 

Dr Jamieson traces the superstitious observances of Hal- 
loween to a heathen origin ; and I agree with him to a certain 
extent. At the same time, I have no doubt that the particu- 


NOTES ON OCTOBER. 301 

lar custom adverted to in the text, was intended as a piece of 
mockery of those Romish processions by torch and candle light, 
which the first reformers used every method to ridicule. On 
this subject, the tradition of the west of Scotland is universal 
and explicit ; and it will be observed that the period to which 
this tradition relates is not very remote. 


Note X. 

Then round the fire, full many a cottage ring 
Cheerful convenes, to burn the boding nuts. — P. 178. 

" Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the 
lass and the lad to each particular nut, as they lay them on 
the fire, and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or 
start from beside one another, the course and issue of the 
courtship will be." — Notes to Burns's Halloween. 


Note XI. 

Plunging, to catch the floating fruit, that still 
Eludes the attempt. P. 179. 

Ducking to catch an apple floating in water, produces much 
unsuccessful and ludicrous stretching of the jaws. 


302 NOTES ON OCTCEEK, 


Note XII. 

•Nor is the triple spell 
Of dishes, ranged to cheat the groping hand, 
Forgot. P. 179. 

"Take three cjishes ; put clean water in one, foul water 
in another, and leave the third empty r blindfold a person, and 
lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged ; he (or 
she) dips the left hand : if by chance in the clean water, the 
future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a 
maid ; if in the foul, a widow ; if in the empty dish, it fore- 
tells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated 
three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is 
altered." Notes to Halloween. 

The following stanza, descriptive of this custom, places 
before the mind, not merely the facts as they happen, but -the 
looks, gestures, and feelings of the actor : 

6; In order, en the clean hearth-stane, 

The luggies three are ranged, 
And ev'ry time great care is ta'en, 

To see them duly changed : 
Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys 

Sin' Mar's year did desire, 
Because he gat the toom dish thrice, 

He heaved them on the fire 

In wratli that night." 


NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 


Note I. 

-But beware 
Of clipping close the fetlock. P. 185. 

It is strange how far the docking, shaving, paring, and 
clipping system is carried. While it is confined to the mane, 
the ears, or even the tail, it is of minor consequence ; but 
when Art comes to make alterations on the legs or feet of a 
horse, she ought to proceed with caution. The old mode of 
over-paring the hoofs is now exploded ; but the practice of 
clipping the fetlock is still in full vigour with respect to coach- 
horses. Indeed the whole pastern joint round and round is 
clipped close to the skin. The consequence is, that the skin 
is exposed to the actual contact of the mud and clay. Now, 
every one knows how much clay, or any other adhesive sub- 
stance, frets and irritates the skin. Any adhesive substance 
drying and encrusting on the skin, is in fact a kind of blister. 
It may not, indeed, raise the cuticle, but it certainly pro- 
duces soreness and scabs. It has, besides, the effect of con- 
verting the hairs into bristles ; the consequence of which is, 
that every time the heels are rubbed, the roots of the hair act 
as a kind of prickles on the most sensible part of the frame. 


30£ NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 

viz. the sub-cuticle. In short, the very important office which 
the skin performs is marred, and the consequence generally is 
greasy and swelled heels. 

But the actual application of the shears to the joint is sel- 
dom confined to the hair. Careless or drunken grooms gene- 
rally contrive to take in, now and then, a bit of the skin. 


Note II. 

The reeling compass* P. 189. 

That, in thunder-storms, the compass sometimes loses its 
polarity, is a well known fact. 

Note III. 

Hence Irrigation's power at first uuas learnt ; 
A custom ancient, yet but rarely used. 
In cold and watery climes. P. 191. 

The practice of irrigation is very ancient, and seems not to 
have been confined to grass-fields, or rather it seems to have 
been confined to corn-fields: 

" Deinde satis * fluvium inducit rivosque sequentes ; 
Et quum exustus ager morientibus aestuat herbis, 

* Among the ancients the word sata never signified fields 
>own with grass. 


NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 30b 

Ecce, supercilio clivosi tramitis undam 
Elicit : ilia cadens raucum per levia murmur 
Saxa ciet, scatebrisque arentia temperat arva." 

Georg. i. 1. lie: 

The immense benefit to be derived from irrigation, com- 
pared with the cost and trouble, is very succinctly pointed out 
by Mr Singers, in his report made to the Highland Society 
concerning the watered meadows on or near the rivers Esk, 
Ewes, Sec. from which the following are extracts : 

" If the charges incurred, in the mechanical department 
of the formation of all these meadows, be stated at five pounds 
per acre, it is probably not far from the average. There have 
been some which have risen to seven pounds, when there was 
much cart and spade work to do ; while others have been laid 
out at a very low rate. 

" The annual returns at present may be safely estimated 
at 150 stone of hay, of 24 lib. avoirdupois in the stone, -Jor 
every English acre of meadow. Some of them rise above 
200 stone, and others fall as low as 100 stone, or even less, 
being as yet unproductive, in consequence of unfavourable 
circumstances. But the average return probably rises above. 
It must be remembered, however, that the returns of these 
meadows do not consist wholly of hay. I am disposed to 
think, that the returns in pasture, exclusive of the hay, do 
aot in general fall short of the full value of the soil in its ori- 
ginal unimproved state." 

- The annual expences incurred in keeping up the works 
V 


30G NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 

on these meadows, may be considered, at an average, about 
5s. per acre," 

" The expence of laying out and inclosing these meadow? 
is the principal obstacle. But when this expence is moderate, 
and the meadow succeeds well, a single year's crop, almost, 
or entirely, defrays the charges. When matters are less 
favourable, they may still be liquidated in two or three sea- 
sons. And when the expence is very low, the first year more 
than pays it ; as must have been the case in various instances, 
where these meadows were done in catch-work, and succeeded 
well. But if the forming and inclosing should not be fully 
compensated in less than four or five years, there is reason still 
to expect that the tenant will be reimbursed. 

" The attention which becomes necessary to the watered 
meadows in upholding them, and conducting the watering 
process, is mentioned as an incumbrance. I admit the fact, 
but what does the farmer obtain without attention ? Let him 
consider the pains and trouble he must undergo in manuring, 
fallowing, sowing, and reaping, from arable soils ; and in 
preserving and bringing into use the respective crops which he 
raises from them. But with respect to watered meadows, if a 
few of them are situated contiguous to each other, a common 
labourer, employed to uphold and water them all, effectually 
removes this difficulty ; and in other cases, a common farm- 
servant will very soon learn to attend to the ordinary matters 
that require his notice." 

" But the profit (says Arthur Young) of irrigating dry 
slopes of sand and gravel, &c. and poor dry ling moors, is 
immense. The expence is comparatively trifling, and the im- 


NOTES ON NOVEMBER. 30? 

jrovement beyond conception. Such lands may be raised from 
2s. of 3s. an acre, to 40s. or 50s." 

Farmer's Calendar. 


Note IV. 

Some level fields ', through all the winter months, 
Are covered warmly with a watery sheet. P. 194. 

" In this month you begin to winter-water the meadows 
,and pastures wherever it can be done ; and be assured that no 
improvement will pay better ; a winter's watering will answer 
in the hay fully equal to a common manuring of the best 
stuff you can lay on the land ; and the expence in some situa- 
tions is trifling. " 

" It is necessary, however, every ten days or fortnight, to 
give the land air, and to lay it as dry as possible, for the space 
of a few days. Whenever the frost has given a complete 
sheet of ice to a meadow, it is adviseabie to discontinue float- 
ing, for the frost will sometimes take such strong hold of the 
land as to draw it into heaps, and injure the evenness of the 
surface."— -Young's Farmers Calendar* 


NOTES ON DECEMBER, 


Note I. 

Foes of the insect race t through every cJiange, 
The embryotic egg, ifc. P. 202. 

44 Most of the smaller birds are supported, especially when 
young, by a profusion of caterpillars, small worms, and in- 
jects, with which every part of the vegetable world abounds ; 
which is by this means preserved from total destruction, con- 
trary to the commonly received opinion, that birds, particular- 
ly sparrows, do much mischief in destroying the labours of 
the gardener and the husbandman. It has been observed, 
* that a single pair of sparrows, during the time they are 
feeding their young, w T ill destroy about four thousand cater- 
pillars weekly ; they likewise feed their young with butter- 
flies and other winged insects, each of which, if not destroyed 
in this manner, would be productive of several hundreds of 
caterpillars.' Swallows are almost continually upon the wing, 
and, in their curious winding flights, destroy immense quan- 
tities of flies and other insects, which are continually floating 
in the air* and- which, if not destroyed by these birds, would 


NOTES ON DECEMBER. 309 

Tender it unfit for the purposes of life and health. That active 
little bird, the tomtit, which is generally supposed hostile to 
the young and tender buds that appear in the spring, when 
attentively observed, may be seen running up and down 
amongst the branches, and picking the small worms that are 
concealed in the blossoms, and which would effectually de- 
stroy the fruit. As the season advances, various other small 
birds, such as the redbreast, wren, winter fauvette or hedge- 
sparrow, white-throat, red-start, &c. are all engaged in the 
same useful work, and may be observed examining every leaf, 
and feeding upon the insects which they find beneath them. 
These are a few instances of that superintending providential 
care, which is continually exerted in preserving the various 
ranks and orders of beings in the senile of animated nature ; 
and although it is permitted that myriads of individuals should 
every moment be destroyed, not a single species is lost, but 
every link of the great chain remains unbroken." — Bewick. 


Note II. 

Who see their halls with happy faces thronged. 
The rich, the poor, the old and young, all joined 
In social harmony. P. 207. 

44 Then opened wide the baron's hall, 
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; 
Power laid his rod of rule aside, 
And Ceremony doffed his pride." 


310 NOTES ON DECEMBER, 

" All hailed with uncontrouled delight, 
And general voice the happy night, 
That to the cottage, as the crown, 
Brought tidings of salvation down. 

" The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 
Went roaring up the chimney wide ; 
The huge hall-table's oaken face, 
Scrubbed till it shone the day to grace, 
Bore then upon its massive board, 
No mark to part the squire and lord." 

Marmicn. Introd, to Canto VI. 


Note in. 

Of all the festive nights which customs old, 

And waning fast, have made the poor man's oivn, 

The merriest of them all is Hoggmanay. — P. 208. 

In Scotland the last night of the year is called Hogmanay, 
most frequently pronounced hockmanay. For an ingenious 
account of the origin of this name, see Dr Jamieson's Dic- 
tionary. 


NOTES ON DECEMBER. Ml 


Note IV. 


-No dread is now 


Of walking wraith, or witch, or cantrip fell.— >P. 208. 

" Wraith, properly an apparition in the exact likeness of a 
person ; supposed by the vulgar to be seen before or soon after 
death." Jamieson. 

" Cantrip, a charm, a spell, an incantation." — Jamieson. 


Note V. 

With smutted visages, from house to house, 

In country and in town, the guisarts range. — P. 209. 

" Gyser, gysard, a harlequin ; a term applied to those who 
disguise themselves about the time of the new year."~ — Ja- 
mieson. ^ 

" Whan gloamin gray comes from the east, 

Through a' the gysarts venture, 

In sarks and paper helmets drest." Nicol's Poems. 

" The custom of disguising now remains only among boys 
and girls, some of whom wear majsks, and others blacken their 
faces with soot. They go from door to door, singing carols that 
have some relation to the season, and asking money or bread. 


312 NTOTES ON DECEMBER, 

superior in quality to that used on ordinary occasions."— =- 

MIESON. 

On first coming to a door, they cry or chaunt, 

Hogmenay Troloiay, 
Give us your white bread. 
And none of your gray. 

Note VI. 

And sing their madrigals, though coarse and rude. 
With willing glee, that penetrates the heart. 

" Then came the merry masquers in, 
And carols roared with blythesome din ; 
If unmelodious. was the song, 
It was a hearty note and strong. 
Who lists may in their mumming see 
Traces of ancient mystery ; 
White shirts supplied the masquerade, 
And smutted cheeks the visors made." 

Marmion. Introd. to Canto VI. 


THE END. 


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